Anima Fatalis
by Snow White Strumpet
Summary: Lucius Malfoy is a new employee at the Ministry and already has more influence than perhaps he should, particularly among the women. These casanova tactics may speed his rise to power, but can they be reconciled with the need to produce an heir?
1. Chapter 1: A day at the office

Selene, a newly appointed secretary, sat at her desk in the ministry of magic, her shoulder-length brown hair winding itself into tight curls as she lazily flicked her wand back and forth around her head. It is perhaps this activity which was responsible for a rather unexpected guest entering our protagonist's office unannounced. That, or the fact that ever since she had started working there, she did not seem to be able to concentrate terribly hard on her work. Either way, the subsequent activities proved to be rather scandalous to say the least.

There was a loud knock at the door, and without waiting for an answer a short and plumpish man walked in, an air of braggadocio fuelling his strident march into the office; an air, however, which was hastily deflated when his eyes met with the owner of the office. The plump man stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide.

"WHAT?" screamed the owner of the office, his blue eyes boring through his white-blond hair which lay shambolic around his face. The intruder mumbled something of an apology and backed out of the room unceremoniously.

Lucius Malfoy looked down at the dishevelled woman beneath him, lying supine on his desk. Her once immaculate hair had fallen into tangly disarray around her face. Opening her eyes she looked up at the blond man who, still breathing heavily, deftly lifted himself off the desk and walked to the window, rearranging his cape as he went.

The woman, who could not have been more than nineteen, sat up and began smoothing her hair in a somewhat futile attempt at decorum. She had been in love with Malfoy for almost two months now and, after swearing to keep her virtue until her wedding night, she now saw, standing by the window, the reason she had not. However, she had not anticipated that the event would be disrupted by such an unwelcome intrusion.

She began to panic. "If he speaks to anyone!" she whispered as she began to do up her skirts, but before she could continue he was by her side.

He stroked her cheek and whispered into her hair, "Was it not worth it?" as he began to wind her hair around his fingers.

She relaxed into him. "Though I admit, I hardly noticed him come in..." she began to smile, "I hope that we will not be subject to such interruptions when we are married."

He wound her hair further round his hand and pulled her face towards his, "I couldn't possibly tolerate such a thing," he said, releasing her and walking now to the door. As it opened automatically, Nanaea saw her cue and rose from the desk. She kissed Malfoy's cheek as she left and he smiled, raising his chin and watching her as she continued down the corridor.

Closing the door with a flick of his hand, Malfoy turned back to his desk. Shocked, though never letting so much as a flicker show, he stopped as he saw a woman sitting at his desk. She did not look at him, but proceeded to take a long silver pin out of her hair, letting loose a thick swathe of ebony which fell about her shoulders.

Malfoy fixed her in his sights, and, squaring his broad shoulders said, "I'm sorry but my window for desk sex has been filled quite amply already this afternoon, I don't think I will be requiring your services." He pulled the woman out of his chair unceremoniously and proceeded to sit down.

"Oh don't worry darling," the lady continued languorously, "It won't take that long..." She wandered around his desk, and adding as an afterthought, "It never does... "

With that, Malfoy stood up and marched over to her, "You bait me, Bella, only because you wish me to punish you..." The corners of his mouth turned ever so slightly as he watched her, trying to anticipate her next move.

She turned away from him. "If you mean to tell me that your meeting with Miss mud-blood Nanaea went further than anticipated, then I shall have nothing but disgust for you."

Malfoy went back to his desk and began shuffling papers, "Despite your objections, which I have no doubt are not founded solely on her parentage, it may surprise you to know that there is something so refreshing about a sexual encounter which is not... how shall I say this... so... rehearsed?"

The lady flushed and stabbed her hair pin into the desk, inches from Malfoy's hand.

"Ah," he said, leaning back, "Not so nonchalant after all are we?"

Bellatrix stiffened. "If you really have nothing better to do than play with mud-bloods... maybe you aren't as important as I thought..."

She stopped suddenly as Malfoy grabbed her hand, "You don't think it repels me that her mother is..." His lip curled up as if he were too disgusted to actually say the word. "It's sport, my darling Bella," he let go of her hand, "Nothing more." He returned to his papers.

Bellatrix jumped on to his desk, pulling him close to her by his collar. "If I didn't know any better my dear boy, I'd say you were getting soft." Kissing him deeply on his mouth she slipped her hand between his legs. "Oh... my mistake.."

She grinned, running her hands up his stomach and across his chest. "Anyway," she stated abruptly, pulling her hand from his robes and sliding back over the desk, "I too have more important engagements than you... Paris actually. The French are so much more... Well, actually that's just it.. . they are so much more... in every aspect... if you see what I mean."

She walked to the fireplace as Malfoy once again leapt from his desk and seized her in an iron grip. He pushed her up against the wall, slid his hand down her body and firmly between her legs. She inhaled sharply. Feeling every part of her skin start to tremble, she shut her eyes, and he touched her, pushing her harder against the wall...

"The French are... what were you saying?" he said, kissing her neck, then stopping he turned away, "I won't keep you."

Bellatrix recovered herself and, eyes blazing, shouted back at him. "It's always games with you, Malfoy... maybe you should grow up," she snapped, quivering with frustration, her usually cool and self-assured exterior vanishing in a second as she stepped into the fire grate and was gone.

Malfoy returned to his desk. _Maybe you should grow up_, the words lingered around him annoyingly. He was twenty-four years old, he should be free to obey the whims of youth, something which had not been so easy during his own ascetic upbringing. He could picture his father's contempt for his now rather hedonistic life style. And yet it was the memory of his father which made him feel uneasy... or rather the need to produce an heir of his own and carry on the prestigious Malfoy lineage. His thoughts, however, vanished in a heartbeat when, once again that afternoon, there was a loud knock on his door. This time, however, the door remained fastened.

"Come in," he called, leaning back into his chair. The same little fat man walked in, flustering as he did, and not quite meeting Malfoy's eye. Lucius Malfoy was a relatively new employee at the ministry and yet the combined forces of his esteemed heritage, and the glacially impervious demeanour he possessed, made him a formidable figure. Already he commanded more influence in the ministry than anyone of his age, and often more than those who had been there a great deal longer. The little man shifted on his feet.

"Lucius, I was talking to a mutual acquaintance this morning and it appears he has some information which I believe will be invaluable to you. He... er, wouldn't tell me what exactly... either way I told him to meet you at the winter ball this evening.. you are going are you not?" The man's question hung in the air as Malfoy looked into his eyes.

"What do you care of my affairs? ...And why could this 'acquaintance' not tell me this himself?" Malfoy was in no mood to humour this man, whom he saw as nothing but an irritant on the welcome repose Bellatrix' absence had given him.

The short man fidgeted again, "Let's just say, Lucius, that he made it impossible for me to refuse." With that, the man was gone. Malfoy let out a bored sigh and muttered a charm into a blue sphere which lay upon his desk.

"Selene, get my tailor in here as soon as possible will you? I have a ball to attend."


	2. Chapter 2: The Ball

Later on that afternoon, Lucius Malfoy stood in his study, crackles of snapping logs blazing away in the fire punctuating the otherwise silent ambience. As he stood there in his black trousers, the material of which rendered his body as one dipped into dark and gleaming oil, an older man, his grey hair coifed in a flourish on top of his head, wound a drape of shimmering charcoal cloth about Malfoy's bare upper body. With this in place as snugly fitted as his trousers, the tailor lifted with feeble fingers a heavy looking mantle of a deeper grey, which sparkled as if it were encrusted with stars.

Above the huge fireplace hung a mirror, and with a swish of his hands Malfoy raised it, turning it on its burnished bronze axes until it hovered before the fire on its side, able to show his entire body.

"Very nice, Rampez," he said with a perfect French accent, letting the smallest of smiles creep onto his face.

"It is always a pleasure to work with such fine material, sir," he said bowing low, then rising slightly to touch the sleeve of Malfoy's mantle, his hand lingering a little to long for his employer's liking,

"All right, that'll do..." He spun around from the mirror, his hair flashing silver in the light of the fire. "I assume my secretary has paid you in full?" he said, walking past the man who, bowing even lower, appeared almost dog-like.

"Of course, sir," he replied from under a mass of grey hair.

"Then I presume you do not need any help in vacating my house."

"No, sir. Of course not, sir," the man replied, slinking backwards as he did so, then, he was gone. Malfoy walked over to the fireplace, replacing the mirror to the horizontal position it occupied with a charm as he did so. He poured himself some fire whiskey and looked into the reflection. _Whatever this acquaintance has to say cannot be good_, he thought, running a mental list of possible associates who might have run into trouble, but moreover who might bring him into it.

Unfortunately this list was not a short one. Lord Voldemort, the leader of a faction of Wizards who preferred the Darker Arts, was climbing in power by the day. To the ministry he was the apotheosis of anarchy and so dangerous to them, that many people were under suspicion. Malfoy was not yet part of Voldemort's inner circle, or Death Eaters as they were commonly known, yet the Dark Lord's machiavellian crusade attracted him like nothing else. His place at the ministry was, however, more important. He felt his stomach begin to knot as he thought of the possibility that something had slipped, that his 'extracurricular activities' with the Death Eaters had compromised his life at the ministry.

The ball sizzled with animation and enchantment as Malfoy walked through the doors. He stood alone and paused for a moment. Though he could engage with any number of guests around him, he wanted first to check out the lie of the land, remembering his father's advice: _If you are not on your own territory, my son, it is difficult to succeed_. He had thought this an odd statement and slightly limiting towards anyone wishing to succeed beyond the boundaries of their own homes.

_What should I do, father?_

He could hear his father speak now as he cast his eyes about the room, _You must make it your own territory, of course. Inhabit the space in the room, know every person. Be able to look into each of their eyes without fear and you will command them all._

From across the room another pair of eyes were alert, a girl with hair the colour of primroses looked on as Malfoy surveyed what was rapidly becoming his domain.

Malfoy had now fixed his eyes in one particular corner, he had found his mark and began to stride towards him. The tall and spindly man in the corner almost seemed to sense his presence, as he turned to greet Malfoy almost immediately. His eyes were green, but such a colour which at times took on a yellowish tinge, giving him an unequivocally reptilian air.

"I fear that you will not like what I have to tell you Lucius," he said, looking past Malfoy's shoulder, affecting an air of disinterest so as not to attract too much attention.

"Say what it is, and we will decide whether I _like_ it later," Malfoy replied through a clenched smile.

"Here is not the place... meet me in the foyer just before midnight. No one will leave the ballroom at that time."

"Julius, I came to this ball for one reason and..."

"Lucius... it would be prudent to heed me on this."

Julius slunk away, linking his arm with that of a painfully thin woman with rather large bulging eyes and red hair.

Looking across the crowd, a group of people stood in the other corner, many of them important people at the ministry. Malfoy stalked his way over toward them, and an older man with a silvery beard turned to greet him.

"Ah, Lucius, we were just discussing young Leo's proposal of marriage to the Hemming girl... damn shame if you ask me..."

The man named Leo shuffled on his feet, "I hope she may change her mind... but I fear that there is someone else."

"Her father never said anything," replied the old man, "Ah! There she is now... Nanaea... come and meet some of your father's colleagues."

The girl walked over to the men, flushing crimson as she saw that Malfoy was one of the company.

"Now, my girl, what reason have you to deny this fine fellow, hmm?" the older man said in a pleasantly jocular, though condescending tone.

Nanaea looked to the floor, fearful of meeting her new lover's eyes. Her hands rested uneasily on her gown which glistened in the candlelight, a pale blue satin corset leading down to full floor-length skirts which rustled around her, making every nervous move she made seem to amplify and echo. Without doubt she was beautiful, and tonight her red hair gleamed in ringlets like coils of fire. However, in the face of these rather distinguished men, she was reluctant to speak, should she reveal the rather gauche or artless naiveté which seemed to be characteristic of young witch debutantes.

"I... I could not give my consent to one, when my heart is with another," she replied eventually, her honesty giving her courage as she fixed the older man with a firm stare. The man looked nonplussed.

"I don't suppose you will disclose the identity of this paramour eh?" he said with a wink. Nanaea shook her head, catching a glimpse of Malfoy as she did so.

He did not look at all worried, not like a man nervous of their secret being uncovered. _Maybe he wants people to know_, she thought, feeling her heart flutter at the prospect, _maybe he will announce our engagement tonight!_ She smiled inwardly and continued to look at the floor.

"Well," continued the old man authoritatively, "What do you think of all this, Lucius? You are uncommonly quiet."

"Rather that than commonly verbose," he said with a smile. The people around him tittered. The old man, it seemed, had not detected any insult. Lucius did not move, only raised his head slightly. "I think it is just as well that they are not to be married..." Nanaea felt her heart beat faster, yet still she could not look at him, not until he had announced their intended union. Lucius continued, "It is a highly inappropriate match..."

"Steady on, Lucius," interposed Leo, "We aren't all snobs like you!"

"Leo, my 'snobbery', whether justified or not, is of no matter... It is about principle and duty. Honour to ones heritage."

Nanaea could feel her eyes begin to burn... _He can't be saying this... It must be a joke of some kind... He isn't _like_ that..._

"Heritage has nothing to do with it," barked Leo, "Times change, Lucius, and I love someone, regardless of the fact that her mother is a muggle." As he spoke the words stuck in his mouth as the bitter realisation dawned that he was defending someone who loved another man. Nevertheless, Leo was a man of principle and firmly challenged Malfoy's antiquated idea of pure blood lines. Hardly anyone was wholly pure blood these days, for even those who were pure blood could not always guarantee their lineage.

Nanaea felt the ballroom floor she had been staring at so fixedly begin to spin around her. The old man at this point jumped in, "Now, Leo, I'm sure that Lucius meant no offence, he was merely reminding us of a tradition, archaic though it may be." He turned to Malfoy, "Are you saying then, that should you fall madly in love with a girl... you would leave her if she were not pure blood?"

Malfoy stood tall. "It would be a disgrace to my family name. I mean no disrespect, of course, but bloodlines have to be protected. It is nothing personal, merely a fact." He was resolute. The men around him seemed largely unaffected by his opinions save Leo, who, with his jaw set, had excused himself. The conversation moved on to the more pressing social matter at hand: the threat of Lord Voldemort and his death eaters. No one really noticed Nanaea slip away from the crowd and outside into the night.

"If you ask me, this whole ball debacle is just a scam, it's for show, so we don't think that the ministry isn't bloody terrified of Voldemort launching a coup!" said one man, clearly loving the sound of his own voice.

As the men began throwing about their own opinions Malfoy again remained mute. He had not wanted to dispose of Nanaea so publicly but he had no option. Admittedly he had thought of her as sport, she was a challenge, to be overcome... quite literally, he thought with a wry smile, but he had not imagined her to begin talk of marriage. At that point it became clear that he would have to end things immediately. He was brought out of his reverie by another question, which was fired at him aggressively.

"I mean, you see what goes on with Fudge... a great more than some of us do, I'm sure. What plan does he have to counter attack Voldemort?"

"Counter attack?" snapped another, "Pre-emptive strike if you ask me... infiltration.. yes..."

Malfoy pondered a moment, "I don't think there is anything to worry about as of yet. Is it not democratic that we have an opposing party to our own?" As he said this he felt a twinge of excitement sear through his body.

"But such a party, well, that is as far from democracy as you can get. It's dictatorship," the man continued.

"But perhaps such dictatorial methods are necessary..." Malfoy stopped, aware that all eyes now were upon him, "That is to say, perhaps this is the only way an alternate cause can be heard," he paused, "Over the din of administration that seems to be clouding the ministry at present."

He ploughed on, "Fudge has said it himself, repeatedly, there needs to be a shake up at the ministry. Though I have complete faith that he will do what is necessary, when the time arrives." Lucius Malfoy raised his eyebrow in a cursory glance at the men around him. Satisfied, he congratulated himself on the fact that though he had just delivered a diatribe of utter rubbish, circuitous and cryptic nonsense in an attempt to back-pedal what might have made him appear a sympathiser to Voldemort, the men around him were mostly too drunk to notice.

With the topic of conversation now back on the state of internal ministry affairs, Malfoy mused on his new situation. He had been visited by the Dark Lord himself, who, sensing his keen ambition, had not found it difficult to persuade Malfoy to join his campaign. Malfoy's father had always shown a strong allegiance to the wizards who practised the Dark Arts, and as a boy Lucius had been enchanted, in the way that little boys are by such things.

Given his position at the ministry he had feared joining the death eaters- for him, power in the ministry was more important and he couldn't jeopardise it. However, after Voldemort had explained that to join him would ensure a great deal more power when he took over the ministry... well, he had found it a great deal easier to accept. Now, precariously balanced between the two factions, he did not feel scared of being discovered, he felt invigorated. He slipped away from the group and calmly walked over to Fudge.

"Lucius!" called Fudge as he saw the statuesque blond approach.

Fudge himself was relatively new to the position of Minister, a position which was perhaps a little too hastily acquired by the nepotism of the council.

"I didn't think you were coming?" he said, with a grin that belied his less than sober state. Without waiting for a reply he continued, "I must introduce to you my Goddaughter. I believe you may have known her a little perhaps, back at Hogwarts?" Fudge motioned to a girl who was at present engaged in conversation with a bespectacled man. She threw her head back laughing, sending her icy blonde hair, which hung in loose wavy ringlets, tumbling down the nape of her neck.

"Narcissa, my dear," called Fudge to the girl.

As she turned Malfoy was struck instantly by the figure before him. She stood in a rose coloured gown tied with a thick velvet ribbon beneath her bust. The rest of the dress floated in chiffon layers about her body as if she were made of only air herself. In her hair and winding round her neck was a garland of roses of the same colour, set into the deepest green leaves. "My dear, this is Lucius, you remember him from school do you?"

"I do indeed," she replied, giving her hand to Malfoy, "I was in the same house as you but I expect you do not remember me. I don't remember you having any time for people in the lower years." She fixed Malfoy with a stare which somehow managed to be charming, yet simultaneously accusatory. Her eyes were a mixture of blue and green and seemed to Malfoy strangely familiar.

He was, for a moment, stymied. Then, recovering himself, "I apologise, Miss, I confess I do not remember you... it is true I did not spend much time with the students who were several years below me."

"I am only two years below you, Mr Malfoy, I am twenty one."

Malfoy frowned, "Surely not?" As he looked into her eyes he saw a girl who appeared to be no more than seventeen, eighteen at a push.

"It's true," quipped Fudge, "Though she still looks as fresh as a daisy... Now then, forgive me. I must just catch Dumbledore... Excuse me." He scuttled off across the dance floor. At this, Narcissa looked slightly uneasy, her confident demeanour waning slightly in the face of her protector's departure.

Sensing this, Malfoy saw his advantage. After an initial moment of weakness, he now commanded this territory. He could stretch out the welcome hand of small talk, initiate a conversation and make the girl feel at ease. Or, he could play his usual hand. He did not speak, merely looked at her with a half smile on his face. As he had anticipated, she broke the eye contact rapidly and, searched her mind for something to say.

"I love the colour of your cloak, it's... really beautiful." She tailed off lamely, hating herself for saying something so flimsy. _I could have said anything- political, poetic… I'm educated, why did I have to talk about clothes!_ As soon as she had seen him enter the room he had bewitched her, his confidence cut through the crowds and was almost tangible, and his eyes… She suddenly felt the full weight of her own lack of confidence in the presence of such a man.

Malfoy, of course, had planned this and was thoroughly enjoying himself.

Narcissa's eyes darted around the ballroom before resting just behind Malfoy's shoulder. Someone was coming up behind him.

_Oh, thank goodness_, she thought.

"Mr Malfoy, perhaps you know my sister?"


	3. Chapter 3: Sisters

Bellatrix eyed Lucius Malfoy meaningfully when he turned around. She stood very still, her dress black as the night and clinging tightly to every curve of her body. Around her neck was a thick gold chain, from each link hanging a single peacock feather, perfectly matching the blue-green of her eyes.

"Bella, may I introduce you to..." began the blonde girl.

"That's alright darling. I know Lucius already."

"Not really," Lucius interjected, "More... acquaintances, really, wouldn't you say Bellatrix?" His voice was soft but his eyes were adamantine. Narcissa enquired as to how they knew each other and Malfoy rattled off something about school, Bellatrix being a year above Narcissa, friends in common and the like.

Bellatrix half listened to him, watching his eyes, animatedly enhancing his ad hoc fabrication of their 'acquaintance'. She felt her throat tighten... though they had always kept their affair secret, she felt somehow betrayed by his public indifference to her. As she watched him, locked in banal conversation with her sister, she was overcome by a surge of jealousy; a feeling, however, which was indiscernible to the people around her. Her body remained motionless and taut, her countenance serene. With the conversation now apparently on the days at Hogwarts, Bellatrix added a few sarcastic comments here and there, all the time watching Malfoy's eyes, or more considerably how they responded to Narcissa's.

The latter, however, was hastily removed from the party when Fudge returned and insited on parading his pretty Goddaughter around the ballroom. Bellatrix remained still and waited for Malfoy to speak.

"What happened to Paris?"

"Paris will still be there when I leave tonight." Bellatrix drawled, feeling that perhaps she had drunk too much already.

"You brought your little sister with you I see," he said, following Narcissa wth his eyes as she left, casting a fleeting glance back at him as she did so. Bellatrix bristled, but said quite calmly, "I did not bring her... her Godfather did, he thought it would be nice for her. She does not usually attend these kind of functions."

"A family outing? How nice. Tell me, are any other Blacks going to grace us with their presence tonight? Perhaps that charming cousin of yours Sirius? Or maybe your other sister, I hear she has actually married this... Ted Tonks... I expect your family must be awfully disappointed."

Bellatrix reeled internally, though knowing of course that this kind of repartee was, for them, quite normal, and more often than not it was the prelude to something far more exciting.

"It is true. An alarming number of our family seem to be... defecting, as it were. My sister is a fool and our parents will not soon welcome her back into the fold. As for Sirius, he always had ideas outside the traditions of our family, but he is a Black. He has our noble blood," she paused, smiling, "Which automatically makes him leagues above many other pure-blood families…"

"If he were truly a match, my dear, he would have been put in Slytherin like us. He has no ambition... I'm afraid your family cannot compete with my own." He grinned widely at her.

"You forget," Bellatrix retorted, "My other cousin, Regulus, a worthy adversary, and I believe, a friend of yours?"

"Now, Bella, you know I only tolerate him so I can be closer to you..." She knew he did not mean it, Regulus had followed Malfoy around at school like a puppy, but she appreciated the lie just the same. She leaned into him, quite forgetting the antagonism of before. She slipped her leg out of a long slit in her skirt, a startling contrast of white against the black of her dress, and rubbed it up against the inside of his leg, close enough to him to be covered by his cloak and avoid an audience, close enough to feel his lust for her. Now it was his her turn to leave him. She strolled off towards the centre of the ballrooom, and, cutting a striking figure as she did so, was accosted by a number of would-be suitors. She looked back at Malfoy and winked. Malfoy looked at her, feeling bothered and restless, though not quite understanding why.

However, it was now fast approaching midnight. He slipped out of the hall unnoticed and made his way to the foyer. Shortly afterwards Julius appeared. He looked both grave and slightly drunk. He prowled towards Malfoy.

"The cane, you see, that I have been valuing... It appears that it is of Dark origins."

"I know this, Julius, you told me when I first showed it to you." Lucius was impatient, "I merely wanted to know its worth."

"That's just it, Lucius, apparently it is worth a great deal more than I had first suspected. There was a raid you see. It was confiscated for being Dark Art related material... a regular procedure these days, you understand... but..." Lucius stopped him. His blood went cold and he could feel the hairs stand on the back of his neck.

"That cane was emblazoned with the Malfoy crest. You understand this could implicate me." He remained very calm.

"But, there is something else." Julius continued, "It wasn't an ordinary raid. They... they didn't take anything else... "

"What's your point!" snapped Malfoy, his cool beginning to crack.

"My point is this; there were many things they could have taken, a plethora of items from certain less desirable customers... they only took your item. My point, Mr. Malfoy, is that this was not an official raid. Something is being kept under wraps... I'm not even sure it was the ministry... which means that perhaps you may remain unscathed... this time," he added raising an eyebrow. Malfoy rasied his eyebrow even higher and glared at the man before him.

"I see that information as irrelevant considering the fact that I trusted you to look after an heirloom that has been in my family for generations. You knew they carried out raids and yet were unprepared..." His mind was spinning with thoughts as to who could have taken the cane and why. "I shall in future take my custom elsewhere... I need no further assistance and would suggest that if you want to remain in one piece you leave this ball immediately."

Julius looked at Malfoy's fist hovering tentatively above his wand and, thinking better of a rebuttal, left the room. Malfoy looked towards the huge burnished doors, through which lay a host of people celebrating for one reason or another. _The ministry knows that my father was allied with the dark arts,_ he thought carefully. _There is no reason for them to blame me for an heirloom which I have never even used_. He thought back to his father's will. The cane had played a significant role, never had it left his father's side. Malfoy suspected, with Julius' advice, that it had some kind of power that the ministry would not want in the hands of anyone but themselves. Theories of what exactly it did though were vast and varied, '_I believe it is a device through which wizards can harness their own powers, amplifying and increasing the effect... effortless destruction, for example...'_ Malfoy had suspected Julius of talking rubbish, and believed himself, looking at the swirling gasses which seemed contained within the glass sphere at the end, that it was some kind of pensieve... perhaps something to extract the thoughts of others.

In the midst of his consideration, however, he was roused by a hand suddenly pressing hard across his backside. He did not turn, but waited. The hand moved around to the front of his trousers and slid inside them. Two dark figures so close together that they could be mistaken for one single person, save for the raven hair of the woman behind. As Bellatrix felt her target grow hard under her touch she was suddenly startled when he spun around and marched her backwards, pulling her behind a pillar which marked the entrance to the hall. The guests could be heard quite clearly inside.

"Here?" said Bellatrix, casting a quick look towards the doors.

"Not scared, are you?" replied Malfoy, lifting up her dress and pulling her underwear aside violently.

"Scared! I think not..." she said, breathing deeply as he put a finger inside her, then she began laughing, throwing her head back as she did so.

"Something amuse you?"

"I knew you would have to have me... you are so easy, Lucius. For moment I thought my sweet little sis might have caught your fancy…" With that, Malfoy hoisted her leg up and over his hip.

As he undid his own trousers he whispered into her ear, "Whatever makes you think I had to do any of this? I just think you need a good seeing to, after your derisive comments about my family. You need putting in your place." With that, he thrust deep into her. Bellatrix inhaled sharply and put her hands against the wall to support herself.

"Putting me in my place... is that what you call it now?" He drove into her relentlessly, his frustration with Julius easing with every stroke. Bellatrix began to close her eyes and her moans became increasingly more vocal. As she let out a cry, Malfoy put his hand across her mouth, silencing her climax as he drove into her one last time, succumbing to his own. Still inside her he pushed her against the wall, his hands either side of her face, against the wall. She looked into his eyes breathing heavily.

"Have fun in Paris," he said with a smile.


	4. Chapter 4: Une Liason Coulloir

As Malfoy walked into his bedroom he felt the cool breeze coming in from the window a little too keenly, it flicked his hair up around his neck as he went to close it. He thought about his father and the will he had left; it had mentioned the cane, but the specifics had always eluded Malfoy junior, who at the time of his father's death had been far more preoccupied with the vast wealth he had inherited. Malfoy's mother was still alive, but after the death of her husband had not wished to stay in the Manor where they lived together. She had instead gone abroad to live in France, a little manoir called le Chat d'Or, not far from the wizard school Beauxbatons. When she was a little girl she had wanted to go to school there, believing that if they were a school of 'beautiful wands' as their name implied, that they must also be a school of beautiful people: a school where a young Mrs Malfoy thought she belonged.

This streak of vanity had, of course, been passed to her son Lucius. He walked over now to the chest at the foot of his bed. Lifting the lid, he removed a piece of parchment which lay within. Untying the green ribbon which bound it, for what felt like the hundredth time, Lucius Malfoy sat on his bed and began to read it.

_My son, along with all that is left to you and your mother in my will, I leave you this cane. Crested with the Malfoy coat of Arms it will serve you well. It is the key to your future. I know you will continue our prestigious and powerful lineage with the honour with which you were born. _

He thought about the words _it is the key to your future._ He had assumed it was his father's verbose and pretentious way of using the metaphorical symbol of his crest, combined with the phallic imagery of the cane, for his continuing the Malfoy line: having children.

However, now it seemed that perhaps there was more, cryptically hidden away. Why had his father not just left the cane in the will, along with everything else... why was it alone with this note? As he thought his brain became more confounded; drink, tiredness and Bellatrix had taken their toll and he threw the parchment down, tore off his clothes and climbed into bed. He would think about it tomorrow. One thing was for sure though, whether he understood it or not, he needed to get that cane back.

Walking through the ministry the next morning, Malfoy, though on home ground and knowing exactly where he was going, felt tense. On his guard, but with just enough trepidation to excite and exhilarate, he stalked through the corridor, hollow echoes from his footsteps rebounding off the walls.

He had slipped one of the secretaries a few gold coins in exchange for the key to chamber in which the plunder from raids carried out by the ministry are kept, locked away until they can be processed. Knowing the system, Malfoy knew they were backlogged several years. _There is no way the booty from the last few raids will have been touched yet,_ he thought confidently, flashing a cool smile at a tall black witch who walked past. He did not see her broad grin as she walked by, but judging from the reaction of most women at the department, notably the secretary who had given him the key a little too easily, he had a pretty good idea of his effect on them.

Sliding the silver key into the lock, Malfoy resisted the desire to check over his shoulder and, feigning an air of legitimate purpose, he marched through the door. Once inside he began to search, piles of books, boxes and certain objects which even Malfoy himself would prefer to stay in the dark as to their function. There were huge towering chests and cabinets and shelves. Many things appeared to be categorised, some even had little dog-eared tags on them. Malfoy raised an eyebrow at the apparent chaos with which this sector of the ministry existed.

"Accio cane!" he commanded. He ducked as a plethora of canes; wooden, metal, plastic; came flying through the air, landing at his feet, save the few which nicked his shoulder... and his chest, and quite a few other parts of his anatomy. He knelt down to sort through them. Within seconds he realised, to his dismay, that his cane was not among them.

Thinking that perhaps it might be locked up in one of the chests, he spent the next twenty minutes looking through draws and shelves. Nothing. He let out of growl of annoyance, walked out of the room and slammed the door as he left.

"Having a bad day?" enquired a soft voice behind him. He spun round, his hand instinctively flying to his wand. Narcissa. He softened visibly at the sight of her almost as if he had been deflated by the expectation of being caught by higher authority, and the relief at seeing her. However, remembering that this was Fudge's Goddaughter he stiffened again.

"Work," he replied shortly, then seeing her seem to shrink in his presence, he added, "Late night..."

She nodded knowingly. "I didn't see you after midnight, did you leave before then?"

"No, I... had some business to attend. Thoroughly uninteresting, I assure you." There was a silence, which, bordering on the awkward, prompted Malfoy to ask the question, "Ah, what brings you to the ministry anyway?"

"I came to thank Cornelius for last night... it was kind of him to think of me, particularly as I didn't really want to come with my sister. Much as I love her, she has a way of making me feel... well, the word wallflower comes to mind. Anyway, Cornelius spoils me."

"I'm sure your sister likes that?" Malfoy replied with a smile.

Narcissa smiled back, "No, indeed, she can be a little jealous from time to time ... particularly when we were children, we always fought over this doll with pink hair..." She trailed off with a feeble smile and looked to the floor. _Dolls? Why are you letting this man make you feel like a child?_ she chastised herself, straightening.

"Anyway, this is a rather strange area of the ministry for you to be in is it not? I thought you were on one of the higher levels?"

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, not sure which concerned him more, the fact that she had said this was a strange area to be in, or the fact that she knew where his office was.

"I work in the ministry and it is common for my work to take me all around the facility. You, on the other hand do not, and thus it is far more surprising that you are here," he said, his voice had perhaps sounded a touch more imperious than he had intended.

"Sorry... I just thought that this area was out of bounds for... people"

"What makes you say that?" He looked at her carefully. His father had taught him something of legilimency - though he could not practice it, he had learned a great deal about reading people, he could see that though she held herself so confidently, she was fearful of something.

"Well... my Godfather sometimes comes down here... he has a room where he escapes to... that was where I was going to meet him. Only, he doesn't want his employees to know... its kind of like a haven for him." She looked honestly into Malfoy's eyes.

"Curious that I have never even seen the entrance to this room," ventured Malfoy gently. Something about the openness of Narcissa's conduct made him feel strangely at ease. Bellatrix was indeed beautiful, but she was so difficult to read, it was hard to tell where her fierce pride stopped and her elaborate bravado began.

Narcissa answered Malfoy's question, though it had not been asked, with a low whisper, "He enchanted it so that I, or his family, people who are close to him can reach it. I'm not really sure how it works, it just appears for us. It's funny... it's only recently we became so close. He is so good to me."

Malfoy had heard Bellatrix talk about her parents on more than one occasion, and could see why Narcissa was so enamoured by someone showing her kindness. He, of course, had no need for such demonstrative behaviour and believed that his own strength had come from his parent's stringent ideas on upbringing.

"I hear your sister has gone to Paris?" he said, wishing to think of something else.

"Yes, she thought I might like to go with her, but my father thinks she would lead me astray - besides, I expect I would get in the way of some of her ... more amorous liaisons."

As she said this Malfoy's eyes widened. He was silent for a moment feeling for the second time that day as if he had been physically deflated. "She has a lover abroad?"

"Yes," replied Narcissa blankly. "She talks about him rather a lot actually, though she has no intention of marrying him."

"A lover, in Paris?" Malfoy repeated... then realising the answer to this question, he nodded to himself slowly. "Une ville tres belle, n'est ce pas?"

Narcissa nodded, "Bien sûr, parfait pour les amoureux."

There was a moment of silence again.

"Forgive me," he said quietly, "I must return to my office."

"Of course," replied the girl with a smile.

Narcissa watched him walk away. She had heard about him from many different people. From Fudge he was an ambitious and determined ministry worker. From her sister and cousin, who, though differing on a great many things, both acknowledged he was a tricky, arrogant and dangerous man. Though certain members of her own family had clandestine ties to the darker Arts, the Malfoys were known infamously for theirs.

Narcissa was sure that underneath all the exterior, Malfoy was just a young man trying to live up to the fierce expectations laid down by his predecessors.

Unfortunately, and despite his apparently charming manner, it was this exterior which scared her. She felt strangely torn. She was so drawn to him, but terrified at the prospect of being alone with him. Putting the matter out of her head she walked to her Godfather's room, the walls opening up seemingly from nowhere and sat down to wait.

When her Godfather arrived he looked flustered to say the least, but nonetheless glad to see her.

"So my dear. You had a good time, did you... at the ministry ball?" he inquired sitting on a large maroon leather chair.

"Yes, it was really lovely... everyone looked so beautiful."

"You, especially, my girl," said Fudge with a wink, "Tell me, your mother and father... they are arranging your marriage themselves are they not?"

Narcissa's heart fell, as it did every time this topic was mentioned. The Blacks, like many illustrious and aristocratic wizarding families, were obsessively protective of their pure blood lines. For this reason it was common practice to arrange marriages between such families. Bellatrix, though slightly older than Narcissa, had managed to avoid such a union thus far, primarily due to the fact that her fiery temper and her extramarital antics were known by many. This, of course, compromised the whole idea of pure bloodlines in that men would not take the risk of marrying someone who could be in any way unfaithful and call their prestigious paternity into question.

Narcissa too, had narrowly escaped one marriage arrangement when she was 19. Antonin Dolohov had been the proposed match, a wizard who had strongly supported Voldemort's cause. He had initially wanted to marry Bellatrix, but, on meeting Narcissa had thought she would be a far better option. "Far more malleable, I think," he had said. She shuddered at the memory. On discovering this, Narcissa had run away. Unsuccessfully, of course, even with Sirius' help. However, it made her parents reconsider their proposed plans... at least for the time being. Fudge was rattling on about honour and wizarding families, ancestry and such like. Narcissa was not really listening, she couldn't, it made her feel sick. The thought of being made to marry anyone, even if she liked them, repulsed her, the lack of choice. However, she knew that choice was something she just did not have.

"I believe my father is in talks with a few associates ... and who knows, if I'm lucky they may let me know who I'm to marry, at least an hour before the ceremony."

"Now then, it is hardly a matter for triviality... and I don't appreciate sarcasm." He stopped, only for breath, "And what with your sister... and her ... well," he stuttered, agitated. For a minister of magic, he was not always the most articulate of men. "Well, it is quite clear to see why your parents are keen to have you settle down now."

He calmed down slightly, "It is too late for poor Andromeda - I know as Minister, I should be open to inter-wizard-muggle relations... but for such a high standing family.. well... and Bellatrix ..." He flushed, his brow furrowed, "Well, the chances of her making a good match are doubtful."

He suddenly noticed he had been rubbing his hands together anxiously. Bellatrix worried him. Many of her friends, though Fudge suspected lovers, were believed to have joined Voldemort's cause. Her proximity to such a right-wing group of people, people who were becoming more and more dangerous by the day, made him nervous.

Narcissa could feel frustration building and her eyes began to burn. "Forgive me, Cornelius, I don't think I'm very well. Perhaps I had better go home."

"Of course, of course, child, do as you will," he said, bustling with some parchment or other.

"I thought that this room was to escape your work?" said Narcissa with a wry smile, eyeing the pieces of parchment.

"Well, you know how it is. Sometimes I need to do a bit of work.. away from prying eyes as it were!"

Kissing him on the cheek, Narcissa left the room and walked out of the ministry of magic.

In another part of the ministry, Malfoy was stooped over his fireplace. The rangy head of Julius was illuminated in the greenish flames.

"Julius, you may just have redeemed yourself... if and when I retrieve the cane... perhaps, and this is not certain, I will take you off my list of people to torture and subsequently destroy." He said the words lightly and smiling, Julius laughed uncertainly. Malfoy did not.

Julius, once again, decided it was best to quit while he was behind, and seemingly evaporated from the flames.

Malfoy sat down in his chair, his eyes fixed on the flames. Putting the business with his cane, his father and work out of his head, he closed his eyes, before opening them suddenly. Bellatrix had another lover. This bothered him. Ever the competitor he mentally flicked through a list of possibilities. Deciding he was far superior in every aspect to almost everyone he could name, he settled back down in his chair, closing is eyes. Still, he thought, it wouldn't hurt to give her a little reminder, his face cracked into a broad smile, considering today had started off so atrociously, everything was beginning to fall into place. _Yes_, he thought, _when she returns from Paris, I shall pay my little trixi-bell a visit_.


	5. Chapter 5: Fire Whiskey

Two days later, Narcissa lay in her bedroom. Sprawled on her deep mahogany bed scattered with satin cushions of gold and silver, she absent-mindedly flicked through a magazine detailing the latest and greatest in Witches' fashion. Despite the fact that, inheriting her family's vanity and love for luxury, she usually devoured the magazine within minutes, she had thus far not moved for an hour.

She threw the magazine down and rolled on to her back feeling hot and fractious . She stared at the ceiling, restlessness causing her mind to wander, and then her hand. She began to stroke her inner thigh, gradually moving her hand further up her legs. Slipping inside her knickers, she began making little circles, her other hand sliding beneath her top and touching her breasts. She writhed on the bed, a flash of guilty pleasure as she thought what her parents would think if they walked in. As her fingers began to work faster she thrust her head into the pillows, closing her eyes to see... _Oh my goodness! Why am I thinking of him?_ But true enough, with each stroke of her fingers there he was, Lucius Malfoy, staring at her. Suddenly, without any warning, lifting her head off the pillow and gasping, she came.

As she lay, regaining her breath and pulling her skirts back over her legs, she felt something tugging on the hem of her skirt. She sat up abruptly.

"Tibs, for goodness sake, why don't you knock or something!"

The little house elf cowered before her. "Begging your pardons, Mistress," he said dropping his nose almost to the floor with a bow, "It's just that your parents is wanting to see you." The house elf disappeared as hastily as he had arrived, and Narcissa hauled herself off her bed.

Walking to the mirror she took her long, slightly bedraggled hair up in one hand and, with her wand, cast a setting spell, holding her hair in a coil on top of her head. Her mother would notice a single hair out of place, so the idea of going downstairs with bed-hair was thus inconceivable.

As she entered the vast room in which her parents sat she felt a familiar sense of foreboding. Suddenly Sirius' unconscionable stunt: running away from her Aunt and Uncle, didn't seem quite so unreasonable. She sat down and as she did so her father gave a flick of his wand which had been lying idly on the mantelpiece. Beside her chair a goblet of wine appeared. She took it and drank, not taking her eyes off her parents, who in turn had yet to look at her with their own.

At last her father put down some pieces of parchment he had been fiddling with and looked at his daughter seriously.

"It appears, my darling, that, despite your sisters' respective conducts, you seem to have escaped unscathed. I did fear that all my daughters would disappoint me, but you appear to have acquired favour of a very respectable order. Your mother and I have agreed on a husband for you… Well, we could hardly say no, such a match is incontrovertibly advantageous to both parties."

Narcissa felt as if she had been glued to the seat, unable as she was to move any part of her body. It suddenly crossed her mind that perhaps her father had put a potion in her wine, or bewitched her seat, a measure against any future ideas she may have had to run away. However, she quickly discovered this was not the case. Standing up, she walked to the window, feeling a sudden need for fresh air.

"Sit down, child," her mother said, an affectedly benign smile appearing in striking juxtaposition to her grandiose and severe countenance. "You are a very lucky girl, and I will not hear otherwise. This match is something your father and I have worked very hard for, so that your future happiness will be ensured."

Narcissa could not speak, or she would have countered this statement fiercely.

"It is all arranged, Narcissa, we are to hear no more about it. Your mother will deal with the arrangements." Her father walked over to her, smiling kindly. "You have not disappointed me, my daughter." He touched her shoulder. "Whatever you have done to deserve this man... Well, I am proud of you." And with that he apparated out of the room.

"Darling, say something," Mrs Black asked, getting up from her seat and walking to the window. "I always dreamed my daughter would marry someone of standing, but who is the appropriate age." Her eyes were suddenly unashamedly sad as she thought back to her wedding. Mr Black was seventeen years her senior, and at the time she had been a horrified eighteen year old. Though she had grown to love him, in her own way, it was more a relationship of mutual respect and companionship.

"When you have responsibilities, Narcissa, you... Obedience and respect is the most important thing. If you are to continue in the lifestyle to which you are accustomed, this is for the best."

Gradually, Narcissa felt the blood return to her face and she looked at her mother.

"Who?" she asked, not really caring what the answer would be.

"He has asked for us not to disclose his identity as of yet, you shall meet him in a few days," she replied with a peremptory nod, then she too left the room.

Narcissa slumped into the chair. For a few minutes she just sat, staring into space.

_I have no choice in the matter, unless I want to be the third Black to alienate my family._

She had been brought up expecting this, but now it had actually been confirmed she felt as if a hundred broomsticks were flying around her stomach. She calmly walked upstairs, passing Tibs as she did.

"Tibs, bring some wine... no, Fire Whiskey, to my room."

Tibs looked disgruntled and began wrinkling his nose.

"Please, Tibs, will you do that?"

The little elf flushed a purplish colour, unused to anyone saying 'please' and immediately disappeared.

A few hours later a much more relaxed and resigned Narcissa had fallen asleep. The empty bottle of Whiskey had been spirited away by the house elf.

She was lying on her bed when a knock came at her door. Turning to see who it was she sat up. "Cornelius?" she said, thinking her voice sounded funny. Without a word Fudge threw himself on top of her. He grabbed the bottom of her skirt and began crawling his hands up her thighs. Knocking the cushions on to the floor, he pushed her down into the mattress. Narcissa tried to wriggle free but felt as if she had been bound by some invisible thread. She began shouting loudly, or so she thought, but it appeared that flowers were coming out of her mouth.

Turning back to her would-be attacker she screamed even harder, seeing that he no longer had a face. Suddenly her limbs were free and she thrust her body upwards and fell off the side of the bed.

Sitting in a pile on her floor, she looked around her empty room. _That's the last time I fall asleep after drinking Fire Whiskey_ she thought as she crawled back onto her bed. Climbing under her covers, she laid her head on one of the satin pillows, hoping this time for an uninterrupted night's sleep.


	6. Chapter 6: Bella's Boudoir

Four days later, Lucius Malfoy stood in his baronial hallway. From the outside, Malfoy Manor could be seen towering out of the mists in the middle of the barren Wiltshire fields. Each window was aglow with light in startling contrast to the frosty exterior.

"Merlin! Samson!" He called out through a huge oak door, as two Great Danes came galloping through from the fields. Malfoy had two doors out to his 'gardens'. One, the goliath oak edifice, led out to a desolate landscape; dramatic and dark as a wilderness. The other, which lay directly opposite, was of similar height, though made of a lighter wood and with intricate cast-iron patterning across the surface.

Lucius Malfoy sent his dogs to the pantry, where they began to eat a rich meal of some kind of dark red meat, no doubt laid on by the house-elves. He then proceeded to this second, beautiful door. Opening at his command, it stood wide as he walked through. Though it was twilight, the moon and stars seemed to shine as brightly as if it were the middle of the night. The lustre of his hair flashed in the light of the moon as he stood, surveying this garden, a perfectly manicured expanse complete with a Romanesque pathway, flanked by orange trees, leading down to a magnificently palatial fountain. Breathing in the night air, he closed his eyes. _Things are going to be quite different from now on, _he thought to himself.

In another part of England, Bellatrix sat at her dressing table, combing through her hair. She felt an immense freedom lay before her, and yet... with all this freedom, she churned inside at all the attention being lavished upon her sister, as her marriage was being arranged. She had also recently heard that the girl Nanaea had accepted a proposal from Leo Mortmain, a man whom she had always rather fancied for one of her lovers. Turning from her reflection she jumped when she saw a figure standing by her bed.

"Now now, Bella, I thought Narcissa was the one who looked at her reflection. Perhaps I am in the wrong room?"

Bella's eyes lit up. _The perfect pick-me-up_, she thought, standing to meet him.

Malfoy walked over to her and yanked at the cord around her dressing gown. Grabbing her around the hips, he threw her down on to the bed.

"So hasty, my love?" She countered, regaining her breath, "Did you miss me?"

"On the contrary," he declared, his eyes flashing, "I am here to punish you for being such a harlot." He stood at the foot of her bed and began methodically, but somewhat violently, taking off his clothes.

Bellatrix laughed. "A harlot? That's a new one." She had been here before and lay back, propping herself up on some cushions.

Malfoy did not look at her. "I think it is a highly appropriate title, actually, though perhaps, 'slut' would be more accurate."

As he threw his last item of clothing on to the floor, Bellatrix stirred. This was different, somehow his eyes were different, his body was different, as if preparing for battle. She pulled herself up against the head board.

"What is the matter with you?" She asked, pulling a blanket across her body, suddenly feeling less than comfortable.

"I should think that was plainly obvious," he said, looking at her, though his expression betrayed nothing.

Bellatrix pulled the covers up higher. "Well you can fuck off then. I don't want you here anyway."

Malfoy marched to her bed and tore the cover off her. "So modest now?" He said, tracing a cool hand across her breasts, "I know what you've been up to, Bella."

His tone was unpredictable, and Bellatrix shifted under his touch. She could not lie to him. She looked into his eyes.

"And..?"

"And... I think it is an affront to someone like me, having another lover behind my back."

He took her hands in his and pinned them down on the bed. "I don't like betrayal, Bella..." he said with a wicked glint in his eye.

Bellatrix stared at him, desperately trying to work out whether he was being serious or not. She wanted him, but there was something in his smile which made her uneasy. She knew that she could never beat him physically, he was going to have his way whether she liked it or not. However, she could not bear the idea of him dominating her without her consent. She opened her legs and leaned up to kiss his mouth.

"I love it when you are rough with me..."

"Rough?" He said, in a voice dripping with sweetness, "You don't know the meaning of the word."

Malfoy pushed his knees into the edges of her legs, forcing them even further apart. With one quick move he was inside her, pinioning her to the mattress. Repeatedly he lunged into her, all the time looking deeply into her eyes, as if looking for something he had lost. Bellatrix had her head tilted to the side, her breathing a deep staccato. Removing one of his arms from hers he moved his hand down to where their bodies joined, moving his hand in time. She came with a cry, her head jutting backwards, as he too thrust deeply one last time before collapsing heavily on top of her.

Bellatrix caught her breath. "That wasn't really a _punishment_, now was it Lucius?" She began to laugh, twisting her fingers through his slivery hair.

"True ... that was not a punishment, I believe I was particularly lenient. But the night is not over yet Bellatrix."

Malfoy rolled off her and began to pull on his trousers. Bellatrix again felt uneasy.

"What are you playing at?" She asked with a smile, rolling onto her side. Malfoy did not answer. He appeared to be preoccupied. "What?" She demanded, sitting up on the bed. Still Malfoy said nothing. When he was fully dressed, he walked over to her dressing table and straightened his cloak. Bellatrix stood up and waved her hands over her body. Immediately she was clad in thick velveteen cloth. She began to boil with rage. With Lucius, though she enjoyed the time she spent with him, she could not stand the way he made her feel inferior.

Bellatrix was suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to assert herself, she wanted to regain some power. "I'm considering joining the Dark Lord, properly… I'm fed up with this place, anyway..."

She walked around him, watching closely for a reaction.

"The Dark Lord is not for little girls, Bella. I shouldn't meddle with things that you don't fully understand."

"The nerve of you! You aren't as great as you think, Lucius Malfoy... in fact I think you had better leave now, you bore me."

She stood looking at him, waiting for him to shout or something, anything. She wanted to hit him, but thought better of it. In the shadowy light of the candles his shoulders looked even broader than usual.

"I shall leave, Bella. But I shall go this way." He indicated to her bedroom door. She raised an eyebrow, thoroughly nonplussed, though straining to display a calm indifference.

"As you wish," she said, and opened the door.

Bellatrix let him walk in front of her, wondering how on earth he planned on leaving the house. Moreover, what would happen if her met her family on the way? A thought occurred to her, that if her parents were to meet whom they would presume as an illicit lover, they would no doubt try to arrange some kind of official union between the two. Bellatrix smiled to herself. _Perhaps he wants to be caught_, she thought to herself, _Perhaps his jealousy over my liaisons in France have spurred him on to thinking about settling down?_ Even as she thought this, though, she knew she was deluding herself. Malfoy had no intention of settling down, whether he got married or not.

His earlier threat about punishment hovered about her briefly and suddenly she felt nervous, walking down the marble steps behind him. At the bottom, Malfoy made a sudden dash towards a heavy set door, which stood in the shadows opposite the stairs. Bellatrix rushed to grab his arm, "What are you doing?" But too late, he had thrust open the heavy door, breaching the darkness of the hallway and casting a huge band of light over the couple.

Malfoy continued to walk through the door. Bellatrix ran after him, blinking in the brightness.

"Lucius, darling, I see Bella has shown you in. Won't you sit down?"

Malfoy walked over to a seat and sat down. Bellatrix stared at him, then her mother, then seeing the entire room was now looking at her, she too sat down. She was too shocked to speak, or question anything; too shocked to trust herself to say anything which might give her away. But what was going on? She looked now at her sister, who evidently was in the same position. In fact, Narcissa looked even paler than usual and was doing her utmost not to look anyone in the eye.

Narcissa Black sat in her chair, wishing it would swallow her up so she didn't have to look at anyone. She could feel her eyes getting hazy, and she couldn't work out whether she felt embarrassed or frightened. Her mother had called her downstairs that evening, sent her back up to redo her hair, and then had made her wait. She had been told that this night she would meet her future husband.

When Lucius Malfoy had walked in, she had thought that he had, for some unknown reason, come to visit her family, perhaps her father regarding work. It was only when her mother invited him to sit down... as if she had been expecting him...

The understanding had dawned on Narcissa like water slowly rising up to cover her face, unnoticeable until suddenly she could not breathe and everything seemed to float around her.

The room was now silent. Mr and Mrs Black were beaming. Bellatrix and Narcissa both looked as though they had been struck over the head, and Lucius Malfoy sat in the centre of the room, calm and composed.

"Bellatrix, my dear," said her father, hastily jumping up to break the ice, "Things should be done formally, so... I have the pleasure of introducing you to your future brother in law. I know you were not informed of this little arrangement, but now I hope we can all celebrate together."

With a flurry of hands, Mr Black summoned champagne for all. Taking his blonde daughter's hand, he led her to the chair where Malfoy sat. Offering her hand to Lucius Malfoy, she fell to her knees. Her father patted her shoulders, seeing this as pleasing genuflection towards her future husband. The truth was that Narcissa did not think she could stand on legs which now seemed as flimsy as cotton.

"Now, now," said Mrs Black, "We must leave these two alone, to discuss... er, things, plans et cetera for the nuptials!" She clapped her hands together and ushered out her husband and her other daughter.

The latter daughter whose blue-green eyes seemed to have taken on a similar hue to her ebony hair, rose slowly from her chair.

"Congratulations," she said, though her voice sounded more high-pitched than usual.

As her parents left the room, she turned back.

"Punishment indeed," she said quietly, looking at Malfoy. Then, forcing a smile, "For my darling sister, of course."

With that she was gone.


	7. Chapter 7: Just a flooing visit

Narcissa stood up after the room was vacated.

"Why?" she asked simply. _Of all the girls he could have, far more appropriate matches I am sure... and why didn't he say anything to me?_

Malfoy remained still. "Why what?" he asked softly, not taking his eyes from her.

"You know, if you had just asked me to marry you, I wouldn't have felt like an animal being sent to the slaughter. And why do you want to marry me anyway? I think you have mistaken my... sometimes shyness, for obedience. Believe me I am not customarily so quiet and... agreeable!"

She stood tall, her past fears evaporating now that she was faced with an inescapable reality. First impressions counted. She would not appear weak to someone with whom she could spend the rest of her life.

"I'm very glad to hear it," replied Malfoy, still unmoved.

Narcissa raised her chin and her eyebrow, studying him closely. "Why then did you insist on this antiquated façade? Why not just ask me?"

He crossed one leg over the other. "Because you would have said no."

Narcissa opened her mouth to protest, but closed it. Picturing the scenario she felt her heart flutter. _It's true, I would have been terrified., I would have turned on my heels and run... then I would have congratulated myself on receiving such an esteemed proposal, but excessively glad I had declined._ She looked back at Malfoy. He nodded and began to smile knowingly. Narcissa remained upright.

"Besides, it was my mother's suggestion. She said these things should be done properly. I believe she initiated the talks with your father..." He paused, leaning back again in his chair. He looked as if he were about to continue; something about keeping pureblood lines together, Narcissa guessed, but instead he merely looked at her.

She moved to sit down, still determined not to show even a flicker of the trembling she could feel mounting inside her.

"Of course, I cannot force you into such a union if it is undesired. Our parents may have decided on the wedding, but I am giving you the opportunity to decline, if that is your wish." He looked at her still, his steely blue eyes, which she felt could see right through her, were resolute.

"Ah, you're worried that if our marriage was unwelcome on my part that I'd be a disobedient wife?" she asked, crossing her legs and feeling slightly more confident.

Malfoy gave a small half-smile.

"No," he said meaningfully, "I am not in the least bit worried about that." His voice was firm. "Merely that I would rather you were... acquiescent to the prospect."

Malfoy was confident. There was no way the Blacks would allow another suitor to be dismissed, certainly not one from the prestigious Malfoy family. Narcissa would be his, whether she knew it yet or not.

8 - 8 - 8 

Malfoy had not stayed long, in fact his hasty departure had left Narcissa thinking that he had indeed changed his mind and would soon be calling off the engagement.

Narcissa pondered this thought the next day. She stood before a large mirror, forged in bronze with nymphs adorning the edges. Her mother was dressing her in long swathes of a white fabric. Being made of lace, it had the effect of pale moth wings, fragile and beautiful. Narcissa suddenly had a feeling of foreboding. She was terrified again, though this time her fear was that he would reconsider his proposal.

She stared at her reflection wondering if perhaps she was schizophrenic. _The thought of marrying him makes me feel sick with fear,_ she thought._ He scares me, more than any other man, and yet the idea that he might not want me is perhaps even worse._ The veils and drapes were beginning to take shape now, and Narcissa had the distinct impression that the figure looking back at her was a fairy, or sylph of some kind. She smiled, forgetting her troubles for a moment as she realised how beautiful she looked.

Her mother stood back.

"The robe was my mother's before me, and her mother's before that." She beamed at her daughter who seemed luminescent in the gown. Narcissa suddenly felt it irrelevant that Malfoy was still waiting to hear her confirmation. For now, she was content.

After her mother had left, insisting as she did that her daughter take off the gown, Narcissa was left in her room. She began to imagine life away from her house... how different it would be, being a wife rather than a daughter. She was interrupted from her reverie by a clamourous whooshing sound. She spun around to the hearth to see Bellatrix step out.

"Bella, are you quite mad! Why did you come by floo to my bedroom?"

Narcissa looked incredulously at a rather dishevelled Bellatrix. In answer to her question another figure stepped out of the grate. Tall and dark, with cheekbones that could cut glass, it was Sirius.

Narcissa flung her arms around him. "Oh Sirius, does this mean you have gone back to live with Aunt and Uncle?"

Sirius scoffed. "Not likely, cuz! I wouldn't go back to that hellish abode if it was the last place on earth."

He sat himself down on Narcissa's bed. "I'm still with the Potters."

Bellatrix stopped him going any further. "Shut up about whatever filthy place you have chosen to live, that's not why we're here, is it?" She spat the words out.

"I'd have thought that a marriage rejection would have humbled you a bit, Bella, but alas, you're still the superior cow I always knew."

Narcissa stood between them. "Whatever you two have to say I think you should say it. Father would go mad if he found you here, Sirius."

The two walked to opposite sides of the room and then both turned to face Narcissa, who stood uncertainly in the centre.

Sirius spoke first. "All right. 'Cis, you are making a big mistake marrying Malfoy... Huge. You absolutely cannot do it."

Narcissa paused. "I haven't seen you for... however long... and you come to see me to tell me not to get married, something that I really don't have a choice about?"

Sirius interjected, "He is trouble, Narcissa, he always was, and this isn't just some Hogwarts rivalry thing. Everyone suspects he is in up to his eyeballs with Voldemort..."

Narcissa turned to Bellatrix. "Then, if that is indeed the case, I can't see why you would object so?"

Bellatrix smiled calmly. "My darling 'Cis. I am not tied up with Voldemort, I have acquaintances who heed his cause, that is all. Besides, his political preferences are not the only reason you should reconsider this marriage."

Narcissa had known that Bellatrix would try to stir things up, but still she was intrigued.

"He is not a nice man... not the kind of man for a nice girl like you anyway. He may be loyal to his kind, but pureblood or not, he will play with you like an animal. He cannot be faithful to one woman..." She was on a roll now, "Do you really think that he will stop his philandering ways with a ring on his finger?"

Narcissa did not know where to look. Sirius stepped over to her.

"Bellatrix, shut your jealous mouth. Narcissa, whether or not he is a promiscuous bastard, and believe me I have no doubts about his capability in that department, it is neither here nor there. Voldemort is getting more dangerous by the minute."

Narcissa looked at him. "If what you say is true, then surely I would want to be on the right side... the powerful side?"

Sirius opened his mouth to shout, but Narcissa carried on, "Both of you can go. All you have is conjecture, gossip. There is no real reason to refuse even if I could, which I can't because I would be yet another of the Black sheep of this family!" she concluded triumphantly, before waving her hands and apparating out of the room.

8 - 8 - 8

Narcissa walked through the garden, despite the fact that it was late. Her path was brightly illuminated by the moonlight. She pulled a fleecy cashmere shawl around her tightly as a particularly cold gust of night air breezed around her. She would marry Lucius Malfoy.

_Apart from the fact that I would most likely be disowned if I did not..._ _perhaps it is time I took a few more risks._

The advice Bella and Sirius had given her chilled her, but she had listened, not without excitement. She was intrigued by the man who was apparently so abhorred by some, and yet simultaneously loved and respected by others. Even so, she began to formulate that perhaps it was a respect derived most probably from fear. She was just so fed up of Bellatrix and her dark, rebellious insinuations, as if Narcissa was nothing more than a child.

Walking back through the courtyard of their palatial gardens, Narcissa walked up to the Owlery. Taking Echo, a dusky-feathered Tawny owl, she slipped him a letter.

It bore one single word: _Yes._


	8. Chapter 8: The Wedding

The day of the wedding arrived soon, far sooner than Narcissa had been prepared for. The ceremony was brief but beautiful; held outside at dusk in the more groomed of Malfoy's garden, with fairies and glow worms adorning the elegant topiary. Candles were charmed to hang about the air, their flames unflickering and pointing straight up in the stillness of the night air. Narcissa wondered if perhaps the garden was enchanted to be without breeze, as if the sky itself were holding its breath with anticipation. However, this feeling did not last for long as she felt a chill run up her body shortly after the ceremony began.

Lucius Malfoy entered the scene looking immaculate, and suddenly Narcissa began to panic. This was it, she was about to end her life as a child, though she feared that her new role as wife would be no less subordinate. Malfoy did not smile at all during the wedding, save when his mother greeted him. She cut a fine figure in purple silk robes, her white hair curled tightly around her sharp face. She had kissed Narcissa softly, and for a moment had made her feel safe, but looking closer into her eyes Narcissa had seen something unsettling and worryingly familiar: something steely and implacable which lay almost imperceptibly beneath the exquisite faces of all the Malfoy family. Narcissa wondered whether her children would have it too.

Narcissa looked at Malfoy from a distance. _How funny that he is my husband, I hardly know him. I think I felt more comfortable talking to him when we were merely passing at the ministry_. It was true that she had been flitting from joy to despair by the minute throughout the evening, but now, looking at her husband, she felt calm. She felt as if she was on some kind of quest. She felt special, and, though she would never admit it, brave. She went to sit down on a grand stone bench, which for the evening had been laced with soft ivory cushions. Her Godfather spotted her and came towards her.

"Now, my dear, isn't this a fine thing!" he said, beaming.

Narcissa smiled weakly.

"I expect its all a bit too much for you to take in, eh?" he said, giving her a nudge, "A good man Lucius, you'll go far with him." Fudge paused, "I know you may have heard rumours about him and Voldemort, no doubt exacerbated by your sister, but I can assure you, my dear, they are absolutely unfounded. Lucius is the last man on earth who would dream of doing anything to undermine the ministry, the place he supports with all his heart..." _and his wallet_ thought Narcissa.

"I cannot imagine two better suited people!" Fudge chuckled to himself, "Yes, a fine match..."

Narcissa smiled at Fudge, but did not hear him prattle on about marriage and the like. She remembered her sister's parting premarital shots. Bellatrix may be a stirrer, but she was no fool. _Well_, she thought to herself, _I have found out one more thing about my husband_, she let a little smile creep on to her lips at the idea of calling him thus, _apparently he is an exceptionally gifted liar_.

Bellatrix had sat through the ceremony next to her parents and aunts and uncles. Her face seemed to bear such a smile that it looked as though if she were to stop, her face would crack. Her hair was tied in medusa-like braids on top of her head, and she wore robes of the deepest green. She had slipped into the house, deliberately catching Malfoy's eye before she did so.

Once inside, she made her way to the opposite door, sweeping through into the wild winds of the other garden. Not long after she had entered, the door opened again and Malfoy walked through. His cloak billowed in the winds exposing his tight black trousers and Bellatrix felt a pang of jealousy. She turned to him and smiled.

"My my, a married man, Lucius... I can virtually see all the fun fading from your life, like a sickness..." She still smiled but it was unmoving, and her eyes remained wide.

"It won't work, Bella," said Malfoy softly, approaching her.

"Won't it," snapped Bellatrix and marched over to him. She kissed him deeply on the lips, then pushed him away. "I can have you whenever I want, Lucius. You think that you are ending this? You couldn't even if you wanted to."

Malfoy looked up at her. "Ending it? My dear Bella... What exactly would you have me 'end'?" He walked over to her and stroked her cheek. "Our little liaisons... have never been more than...fun... I think you said?" He turned away from her.

Bellatrix called back to him, "So you are too enamoured with my spoiled little sister, is that it?" Her eyes flashed the colour of her gown, "I was right, you are turning into a lily-livered old man... settling down with a wife? Have you told her exactly when you wish her to bring you your pipe and slippers now... because I will warn you, she isn't the most punctual of girls."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

"And as for this idea you have to enter the inner circle of the death-eaters... you are not worthy to serve the Dark Lord."

Malfoy walked towards her so that he was very close indeed.

"And what makes you such an expert, Bellatrix?" His voice was deadly calm.

Bellatrix remained mute.

"For your information, no woman could ever turn me away from my aims in life. My ambition is prized more highly than traditions of marriage. If you think I chose your sister as a bride because of any feelings I have for her, or because she would be an obedient wife... you are mistaken. And if you think that I am discontinuing this... entanglement because I feel duty bound to honour my wife, you are mistaken. As it happens, I feel certain that I will receive the attentions from one if not several mistresses in the future, but for the present, none of them are you."

He leaned in closer so that even in whispering, his voice travelled, despite the fierce winds, "There are more things at stake here than even you realise, Bellatrix."

He turned away and began walking towards the door. "If you will excuse me, I have to return to my wedding."

Bellatrix stared after him. "She has something! What is it... why her?" But her voice was carried away into the misty air.

After all the guests had left, Narcissa found herself in her bedroom. It was late, and she could hear the buzzing of house elves at work downstairs. She had a separate bedroom to Lucius, this was the same as her parents and most aristocratic families in the wizarding world. Her bed was ebony and vast. The colour of the sheets and drapes were a pale pink, inter cut with the striking deep red of the drapes and curtains. Her bedroom was lit with a large candle by her bed. She was sure that one candle could not create such light, though evidently it did.

All her things had been put away. She somehow felt redundant. She looked to her pillow and saw a white satin robe; her night-dress, she supposed, which she slipped on after carefully removing her wedding gown. She sat on her bed and waited. She began to think on what was about to happen. The idea made her shiver with nerves. She paced the room on cold bare feet - the floor was made of stone - trying to calm herself down. She could feel her stomach knot and her hands begin to tingle. Finally, she sat down. _Oh my goodness, I think I'm going to faint_.

Suddenly the door opened. She looked up to see her new husband standing in the doorway, a perfect silhouette against the landing lights. Narcissa's heart began to beat faster, a strange combination of intense attraction and a desperate need to run as far away as possible from this formidable man. He walked through the door and it shut immediately behind him. He did not smile, merely looked at her as if, so she thought, in judgement, and yet betraying no sign of any feeling whatsoever. Narcissa was now too nervous to talk, or it would have been around about now that she would have started to gibber inanely about something or other in an attempt to cut the tension. Luckily for her, Malfoy had no need for talk.


	9. Chapter 9: Candles

Lucius Malfoy pushed Narcissa onto the bed so that she lay down. She was now trembling uncontrollably.

"Narcissa, much as I am 'practised' at this particular art... it is not easy if you do not want me..."

Narcissa breathed in deeply, "No, I do want you, I do... I can't help being afraid..."

She trailed off rather pathetically, searching his eyes for some kind of comfort. He kissed her slowly and leaned back, looking at his bride.

"I am not going to hurt you," then thinking better of it, "... Well... maybe... a little," he said, raising an eyebrow before flashing her a wicked grin.

Narcissa closed her eyes as he kissed her deeply, lifting up her satin robe with one hand as he did so. He slid his had up the inside of her leg, parting them and positioning himself between her legs. Without any warning he plunged inside her, his back arching into her as he did so. Narcissa inhaled sharply but he kissed her again, stroking the outside of her thighs as he did so, gently rocking into her.

Narcissa's grip on the sheets beneath her began to loosen as Lucius began kissing her neck, his thrusts getting deeper, though still with perfect control. He brought one hand up and stroked her breasts, slipping his hand into the hollow her back, lifting her up to meet his lunges. Her legs wrapped around his back as she began rocking her hips to accommodate his length. She could feel a slight burning inside her, but was surprised at how warm she felt, being so close to someone. She felt Lucius' strokes intensify as he came, his full weight pressing into her as he collapsed on top of his new bride.

Narcissa was breathing heavily. She felt safe and protected with Malfoy still inside her, his body covering hers, but she was glad it was over.

Malfoy propped himself up on his forearms and looked at Narcissa. "It will get better... when you relax," he smiled and kissed her.

Narcissa, however, was not feeling it. She smiled faintly.

Malfoy looked at her seriously. "I knew that you would be terrified, Narcissa... that's why I made it quick. 'Breaking you in', so to speak," and he let another smile escape his pink lips. "But for now... I think I know just the thing to relax you."

Malfoy slid his hand down between her legs. Slipping inside her he began making circles with his fore finger and thumb. Narcissa's head plunged back into her pillow as she felt her legs begin to tremble. Again she grabbed the sheets on which she lay, though this time in rapture, pulling her legs upwards and jutting her hips out to meet his hand, pushing against him as she did so. She closed her eyes and moaned softly as she came. Lifting her head up off the pillow, her vision became blurry and she felt a wave of tiredness wash over her. That night Narcissa slept, wrapped up in the arms of her new husband.

Malfoy sat in a chair by the fire. It had been a few days since the wedding and still he was plagued by the missing cane. He had longed to question Fudge about any remarkable raids... but knew that it must be Fudge who had spirited it away so cleverly.

_Why does he want it?_ he thought clenching his fists, _But more importantly, if it is indeed a dangerous object, if it is tied to the dark arts, why does he not question me about it? Surely he would want to know whether it is merely an old artefact from the days of my father... or whether it has more practical usage now..._ He closed his eyes, _Whatever the bloody hell that usage is!_ He leaned forward in his chair. _No... it must be done now._

Narcissa was lying in bed. It was quite late, and she felt anxious. Malfoy had not visited her bed chamber for the last few days, not since the wedding night. She felt sure it was because he did not desire her.

_No doubt he will arrange for us to sleep together once every new moon, or whenever I am most fertile, to ensure an heir... and then he will please himself with his mistresses no doubt!_ She put her head on the pillow feeling thoroughly wretched. She could hear Bellatrix laughing at her... and was suddenly jealous of her sister's freedom, her lack of ties, even if it did go hand in hand with her lack of morals.

She sat up and, leaning over to the edge of her extensive bed, she blew out the candle. No sooner had she done this, she felt a wind blow into her face, though one which was warm, gentle and perfumed with the delicate spicy flowers of a favonian breeze. She looked to the window, which had evidently been opened. By it stood her husband, his long hair rippling around his shoulders.

"Was the door not good enough for you?" Narcissa said in a low voice, trying to disguise her shock.

"I wasn't sure if you were asleep or not," he said walking over to her bed.

Narcissa sat up, reached for her wand and touched the candle by her bed, "Lumos," and it sprung into action, casting a rosy glow about the room.

"Oh... I think we can do better than that," said Malfoy, sweeping his own wand around the room so that within seconds it was suffused with the golden light of a hundred candles, each suspended in the air around the bed.

Narcissa smiled, feeling all the insecurity of before fade with the little flickering lights.

Malfoy walked over to a chest in the corner and lifted something from it. It was wrapped in a pale blue paper, and tied beautifully with a satin ribbon. He placed it on her feet and stood, watching, by the bed.

"I didn't give you a wedding gift, such trivialities undermine the ceremony. Consider _this _a marriage gift," he smiled watching as his wife picked it up and began to open it.

Narcissa held up the object from the paper, gleaming silver in the candle light and encrusted with sapphire forget-me-nots, it was an exquisite looking-glass. Narcissa marvelled, "For communication?" she said, smiling, "Perhaps it tells me how I look, like Snow-white's queen."

Malfoy did not speak.

"A foe-glass then?" she asked, not taking her eyes from the beautiful object.

"Neither," he replied, and, seeing that Narcissa was smiling in what could be conceived as a sarcastic manner, he continued, "It is not a joke. I merely... respect the classical myths, from which so much of our society was born." He paused, and for a moment looked deathly serious.

Narcissa spoke softly, "I do not deny that certain ancient myths remain relevant today. But really my mother just liked to read to escape her boredom... Though evidently she did not read closely enough, because Narcissus was a boy." She smiled wryly. "Perhaps I should change your name in a similar fashion, let me see... I am Narcissa from Narcissus... Lucius... that would make you Lucia..." She grinned broadly and for a moment she thought she saw Malfoy do the same. She looked again at the mirror, at her own reflection, bathed in a pinkish light. She grew pinker still when she realised that Malfoy was still staring at her, though not saying a word.

"Thank you, it really is beautiful."

Malfoy sat on the bed, "Of course it is... nothing I own is otherwise."

Narcissa could feel the warmth from his body and was suddenly aware that she was shivering. "Besides," she continued, "The original etymology of my name is quite different... Narcissus, the flower and the man, comes from the Latin _narke_, 'to sleep'... I suppose because he fell into an eternal sleep from looking at his reflection."

Malfoy let a smile spread across his lips, "Sleep?... Well, I don't suppose we'll be doing much of that."


	10. Chapter 10: Cupcakes

Malfoy slid Narcissa further back onto the bed. Taking hold of her ankles he moved her legs apart, slipping his hands up her white legs and stroking gently, feeling her moisten to his touch. Narcissa arched backwards and slid further down the bed. Malfoy moved so that he hovered above, sliding a finger inside her as he did so. "Ah..." he said coolly, "You're ready for me this time," and kissing her as he did so, he impaled himself deeply inside her.

Narcissa had forgotten just how large he was, and wriggled her hips to accommodate him. But this time she was ready, and she was determined to show him. She moved her hips in time with his, looking him in the eye as she did so.

Lucius returned her gaze and grinned, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth as his drives got more intense. Narcissa opened her legs wider and heaved herself up so that she was propped up on her arms. From this angle she could feel him bearing down on her, driving her into the mattress. Grinding on to her with increasing speed, Narcissa let out a cry as the two of them came together. Catching her breath, Narcissa wrapped her arms and legs around Lucius weakly, draping her body around his. Pulling out of her, Malfoy crumpled beside her, rolling onto his back, though still keeping hold of her hand.

Malfoy got up from the bed and walked over to the window. The moonlight seemed to illuminate him like some kind of deity, or perhaps this was just Narcissa's state of mind at the time, highlighting little pearls of sweat on his shoulders.

He turned to her, "Narcissa, there is something I need you to do."

Narcissa was slightly confused, though made an attempt to concentrate on what Lucius was saying. "Of course, what is it?"

"There is something I need. It was ... taken from me, by accident. I need it back."

"What is it, and where do I get it? You can't be cryptic with me now that I'm your wife," she said, smiling.

Lucius looked slightly pained, "Fine, no secrecy... You are my wife now, and your loyalty is to me above all others."

Narcissa felt a cool breeze pass over her shoulders from the open window and she began to think of Malfoy's apparent predisposition for the dark arts. Yet, despite this little tremor of fear, she felt she would without question, be able to be completely deferential to his needs. Even so, she faltered slightly when she spoke.

"Whatever it is you need, I will do my best to retrieve it, with the utmost discretion."

Malfoy moved towards her. "Its a family heirloom, a cane from my father. Fudge has it, and I'm guessing it's in that room of his."

Narcissa raised her eyebrows, "What would Cornelius want with a cane?"

"He believes it contains some illegal dark arts material or other, which for all I know it does; but it is my father's wish that I keep it, and thus I must get it back." This was true, whatever it contained was, Lucius felt, secondary to the desire to have it back in his possession. His father's legacy to him.

Narcissa, however, did not believe that this was all there was to it. "Why don't you just ask him for it back? I know he has made allowances for certain… family traditions in the past."

Malfoy came and sat on the bed. "He doesn't know that I know he has it... I suspect there is more to it… something that he sees as damaging to him perhaps. But I do not want to alert him to the fact that I am suspicious until it is in my possession. If I were to demand it back he would assume that I knew about whatever dangerous purpose it had... and I could land myself, and you by extension, in rather a lot of trouble."

Narcissa thought this was a rather convoluted justification of what was, essentially, stealing, even if it was stealing something back. Nevertheless, she did not like the idea of living with Lucius if she did not comply and seeing no alternative, she agreed.

_After all, I am a Malfoy now. It is my duty to protect the family from any potential mishaps. I am simply removing an item which could implicate my husband... any wife would do the same._

She paused, "Lucius... You _would_ tell me if you knew what it was for? I mean, if it is a dangerous thing, because surely then we would run an even higher risk keeping it in the manor?"

Malfoy smiled at her, "I'm glad to hear that you are taking the manor into consideration... but I must have it back."

The next day Narcissa Malfoy accompanied her husband to work. By the time she had reached the floor on which Fudge's sequestered lair could be entered, she was flustered to say the least. She was astounded that she hadn't been hexed by every woman she encountered, such were the evil glares she had received, walking on the arm of her new husband.

_Lucius told me to behave as if I go there everyday, act confidently even if I don't feel it... but he can't have seen all those women with daggers for eyes!_ she thought as she hastened her steps along the corridor. Of course, Malfoy had seen all the women... and he had thoroughly enjoyed their glances, though of course not letting on to his new wife. It would not be doing to alert her to his previous 'intrigues' this early on in the proceedings.

Reaching Fudge's office, the doors appeared in the side of the wall and Narcissa entered. Fudge was not there. She had anticipated this. He would probably not even have arrived in the ministry yet, such was his penchant for large cooked breakfasts.

Even then it was likely he would have to spend time dealing with his minions before he could come to his hideaway. Narcissa went to a large chest at the back of the room. She looked in drawers, on bookshelves... nothing. _He must have made a mistake, there is nothing but random books and toys... he has nothing here remotely related to the ministry. _

She exhaled loudly, thinking that this was hardly surprising given that this was his escape from work. She laughed quietly as she saw a model of knight in shining armour on the windowsill. She touched it with her finger and it sprang into life. "On guard!" it said, before running around in a circle waving its sword. Then it stopped in exactly the same place it had started and remained motionless.

Suddenly Narcissa jumped as something cracked, like a gunshot. Spinning around she saw a little house elf, his ears so big they were tied behind his head, she presumed to stop him tripping over them. He stood on top of the desk, laying down a large tray of cupcakes, each iced in thick pink icing and finished off with a candy cherry. He shrieked when he noticed Narcissa was in the room.

"Oh, forgives me! I was not knowing people to be in here... the master likes his cakes... I bring them!" He trembled slightly in her presence.

Narcissa walked over, curious to see the contents of the tray more clearly, "That's ok, you can go now."

With another almighty snap, he was gone. Narcissa looked at the cakes, but then moved her eyes down from them. There was a fine line etched in the wood beneath them. She moved the plate and saw that the line made a square in the desk. Feeling around the perimeter with her fingers, she smiled.

"Alohomora," she said, aiming her wand with elegant fingers at the desk. The little square opened revealing a hollow compartment. Peering into it, she saw the cane and lifted it out. Slipping it under her robes, she quickly closed the desk and, taking two frosty pink cupcakes to celebrate her triumphant foray into theft, she walked to the door.

To her horror she could hear someone coming, and sure enough the door began to open. Darting across the room, she grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. Jumping in as the green flames licked up the chimney, she disappeared seconds before Fudge walked into the room.

As Narcissa travelled she hoped she had remembered Lucius's room number, and as the grate approached she began to think of an explanation should she happen to step out of somebody else's hearth. Stepping out, she looked around. _Thank goodness,_ she thought, realising she was in her husband's office. She glanced around. Where was he? Evidently she would have to wait until he got home to break the exciting news.

A few minutes later, Lucius Malfoy strode into his office. He had just been to a meeting regarding a petition, a sanction made to renew the law which made muggle-hunting legal. He had of course backed it zealously. Unfortunately for him, he was in the minority. The ban remained. Lucius was not surprised. However, he was irritated.

Slumping down in his chair he began to fume. Then he stopped, something catching his eye. He gave a small smile. On his desk was a pink cupcake.

That evening Narcissa spent out in the fresh air. She had ventured briefly into the wild moor-like garden; but, owing largely to the fact that her hair was getting tangled in the wind, had retired to the other, tamer garden. From that day on she named the place she stood, 'the garden', calling the other place, 'the forest', such was its wild and thrillingly dark nature. But now she sat on the granite bench in the garden, her hand trailing lazily in the fountain water as she watched the sun sink lethargically down, where it sizzled on the horizon. The very air seemed to take on a pinkish glow, though again there seemed to be no breeze.

As Malfoy came home, he had looked around immediately for his wife. Not seeing her, he made his way out to the garden. He could see her sitting alone 100 yards or so down the path. The water of the fountain sparkled around her in the sunlight and Malfoy caught himself smiling. He walked down towards her. As he approached he suddenly became aware of the similarity in their appearances. Today, both were wearing dark robes, and both had their pale hair tied back at the nape of the neck. _What beautiful children we shall have,_ he thought smugly, imagining a long line of striking yet angelic figures continuing the Malfoy legacy. Narcissa turned around to greet him.

"I take it that the little pink message means that you succeeded."

"I did indeed," replied Narcissa, handing him the cane, which she had kept close since she'd taken it.

Malfoy took it and looked at it.

"Intriguing," said Narcissa, "How something so seemingly trivial can have such an effect..."

"How so? We don't even know what effect it has," said Malfoy, looking at her.

"I mean the effect on you... and Cornelius. You seem entranced by it, even though you do not know its purpose. And he... well, the measures he took to make sure it was safely hidden…"

Malfoy raised his eyebrow, "Well, I am just glad to have it back in my possession for whatever reason." He put it down deliberately on the granite. "But now there are more pressing things on my mind," he said, narrowing his eyes. With a flick of his wand a silvery satin sheet appeared out of the air. Suspended apparently by nothing, it merely hung as a hammock, shining brightly against the darkening sky.

"Wingardium Leviosa..." he whispered, and Narcissa was lifted up in the air and dropped gently into the swaying fabric. "I'm very impressed by the faultless, adroit manner with which the... reacquisition of my father's cane was carried out..." He walked slowly around Narcissa, "I think that I should find some way to..." he paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on hers, "Reward you..."


	11. Chapter 11: Revelations

Lying back in the floating fabric, Narcissa watched as her husband climbed on top of her. Without a word, he slowly unpeeled her clothes until she was lying naked before him. Her pale skin seemed to shimmer in the setting sunlight. Malfoy did not move, he merely looked at her, surveying her body with calm eyes. Narcissa leaned up to kiss him, but he pushed her back down, moving his hand to her lips motioning silence. He brought his hand trailingly down her torso, lingering beneath her breasts before continuing to trace further down. His touch was feather-light feeling beneath his fingers a quiver of anticipation.

Narcissa looked up at her husband, his blue-grey eyes boring through her skin and felt starkly vulnerable in the open air, with nothing but her husband's hand to cover her.

Lucius lifted one of her legs up, sliding his hand up and down her inner thigh as he did so, still maintaining the same immaculate calm and decorum. Narcissa's eyes fluttered and her head fell back. Her hands came involuntarily up her body, stroking her hips and her stomach. Malfoy grabbed hold of them and forced them back beside her, eyeing her meaningfully, then with a gleam in his eye, drew out his wand and uttered a charm. Suddenly Narcissa felt her hands being bound by invisible chords either side of her body. If it were possible to feel more vulnerable, she did, but she was not afraid.

Sitting back, looking at his prize, Lucius Malfoy shook off his outer cloak, and then kissed Narcissa softly on the inside of her knee. He worked his hands and lips up and down her legs, his pace refusing to hasten, driving her crazy with his obstinate control.

Narcissa struggled in her invisible bonds, thrusting her chin up, every time his hands brushed further up her legs. Then, leaning over, he looked into her eyes, the mixture of alarm and longing spurring him into further action. Still holding her gaze he slipped his finger inside her, forcing her legs to open wider as he did.

Narcissa struggled to maintain eye contact as he continued to move his hands, rhythmically pulsing as he watched her breathing get more laboured, her hands clenching in her bonds. With another move Malfoy had undone his trousers, and, positioning himself over Narcissa, he slid slowly into her. Immediately her bonds were released and Narcissa threw her arms around her husband as he began to push into her, still looking into her eyes with increasing intensity. His thrusts grew longer and faster and Narcissa felt the fabric sheet sway more violently, dizzy with intoxication, her legs stretching as wide as she could, trying to envelop as much of his body as she could. His movements became faster and deeper, finally meeting a frenzied climax, his hips arching into hers. He kept moving though, until Narcissa too began to reach her peak, her mouth opening in a silent cry, her chest thrusting upwards, rocking against his body.

The floating hammock continued to sway as the two occupants lay within, exhausted and satiated, their arms and bodies seamlessly interlocked.

Narcissa awoke to find it much darker than she had realised. She sat up to see the sun was nowhere to be seen. Indeed the only light came from a little candle which stood on the stone bench. Next to it sat Malfoy, staring fixedly at the cane. Narcissa swung her legs over the edge and dropped lightly onto the ground. Malfoy looked up and flicked his wand at the candle, splitting it into four more candles, the little grove in which they sat suddenly appeared brighter.

"I have tried everything I can think of to get it to reveal… whatever it does reveal... I don't know. Perhaps it is nothing, though why Fudge prized it so highly I will never know." He handed it to Narcissa, but before she could take it he stopped, staring at it. Holding it up to the candle-light he narrowed his eyes, "look at this!" he said sharply.

Narcissa slid alongside him, to see from the same angle. She took the cane in her hands and held it up. In the light the cane was rendered translucent, and highlighted along its length was a fine fracture. Lucius looked at Narcissa incredulously, then, gripping the cane tightly he twisted the top part. It pulled apart about six inches, revealing another layer within. The pair looked closer to see that on this layer there was some writing.

Anima Fatalis 6879003p869 From Sleeping Light comes forth the Dragon

Narcissa and Lucius gazed at the message. "This was evidently what my father meant for me to find. I would never in a million years have thought he would have hidden it is such a... rudimentary fashion."

Narcissa looked up at him, "Maybe that's just it, nobody would think of it, thus keeping the secret... secret!"

Lucius continued to stare. "Anima Fatalis. The breath of fate."

"Your Latin is good!" said Narcissa with mock condescension, "Though I'd have said the soul of destiny myself'."

Lucius ignored her. "But what is this number.. and a dragon? I don't know anything about a dragon in classical history, save of course the fact that the symbol of our old house at Hogwarts was..."

"A serpent," Narcissa interjected.

"Which is the same word in Latin as dragon."

"Yes," said Narcissa, "Perhaps it is a reference to Slytherin... though I cannot think why..." Suddenly she stopped, "The number, I know what it is! After I left school I was sent to study literature abroad... I think it was to distract me from Bella's influence or something... but anyway, this number is the code to a book, and then the last three digits are the page... All we have to do is go to the Library."

Lucius looked impressed and for the second time that day realised that Narcissa was filling the shoes of a Malfoy more than adequately. "One problem, my darling... which Library?"

Both of them sat in silence for a moment. "Surely the National Wizard Library in London, near Gringotts... would that not be the one?" Narcissa proposed tentatively.

Lucius looked at her, "I have a feeling that it is in another library, somewhere... more protected."

Narcissa frowned, "Where?"

"Hogwarts."

"How will you get to the library?" ventured Narcissa.

"In two days time there is a meeting of the governors and teachers. An acquaintance of mine will be there. I will tell him that I am interested in looking around the school... for future reference," he raised his eyebrow seductively at Narcissa. "It is perfectly feasible that someone like myself would wish to do this, revisit my alma mater with regards to my future offspring... who knows, in the future I may even be one of the school governors..."

Narcissa smiled. "You seem to have it all figured out. "ill you need me to accompany you?"

Malfoy paused, "Why not? I dare say you could prove quite the diversionary tactic... should it come to that."

The next day after Malfoy left for work, Narcissa left to go shopping. She wandered aimlessly about Diagon Alley, flitting in and out of shops, buying things here and there, which doubtless she did not need, but which entertained her all the same. At about 3pm she wandered into a place called Tawny's. This gothically decorated bar was a favourite haunt of hers and her sister, and thus she was not surprised when she saw the latter sitting in the corner, talking furtively to someone with dark and greyish stubble which seemed to go all the way around his neck. Seeing Narcissa, Bellatrix smiled and motioned to the man opposite her who hastily departed.

"Cis... do come and join me," she said in an oily voice, patting the seat next to her.

As Narcissa walked towards her sister, Bellatrix stood up and kissed her on the cheek. This rather uncharacteristically demonstrative act puzzled Narcissa, but it did not concern her. They were sisters after all. The pair engaged in small talk for a few minutes until Bellatrix left the table to get Narcissa a drink. She then proceeded to quiz her about married life.

"You understand that now you have taken my place... you are a lady of the house!" said Bella with a giggle.

Narcissa laughed too, feeling an easy warmth spread over her as she drank, "Yes, I suppose I am," and she laughed again. "What drink is this Bella? It tastes funny."

Bellatrix smiled, "Oh, it's one of the owner's special concoctions... I don't know. But tell me about the two of you... together."

Narcissa blushed scarlet. 'Bella!' she said, giggling, 'I don't think I know what you mean..."

"Oh, you do..." said Bellatrix, flashing her teeth in a serpentine smile.

Before Narcissa could stop herself she had started to pour out details. She felt almost as if it was not her voice. "Oh but it was so beautiful in the swing, rocking in the wind... No, there's no wind in that garden… hmm, it must have been us!" and she laughed again, "But the of course it all got very serious with the cane."

Bellatrix suffered the subtlest sharpening of her eyebrows, before relaxing her features again, "Cane?"

"Oh... just a thing which actually belonged to Lucius, or Lucia as I sometimes call him now." She burst out laughing again, "But anyway, it is his so it doesn't matter that I had to get it from the secret room... You know I was quite the spy, without being caught or anything, 'cept by a house elf but they don't tell anyone and then I ate a pink cupcake." She stopped, looking slightly puzzled.

Bellatrix was looking at her sister fixedly. "Darling, I must go... I am due in Paris this evening. I have to be ready, Mummy and Daddy send their love... blah blah blah," she called back as she left the room.

Narcissa sat alone wondering why on earth she had just told her sister the entire history of her last few days.

Bellatrix walked down the street towards a red phone box. Passing a bin on the way, she flicked into it a tiny empty vial. The label on the bottle: veritaserum.

After being instructed where to go by a bespectacled youth at reception, Bellatrix marched through the ministry of magic. She was on a mission. Knocking on Fudge's door, she walked straight in. The receptionist had of course warned the minister, but even he was shocked at the speed with which she had entered the room. She sat down immediately in front of the desk and crossed her legs. Fudge looked bemused.

"It's like this, Cornelius. Of course my motives are solely the protection of my sister..." (Fudge raised his eyebrows at this) "But there is something I feel you should know. I believe you are missing something, a particular article which was recently confiscated during a raid, is that true?"

Fudge now looked completely bewildered, but his silence gave him away.

"Right, well, I have reason to believe it is in the possession of Lucius Malfoy, and I know this because it was my sister who got it for him... from your office actually." She paused for breath, "Now I am concerned that he is leading my good sister down a decidedly dangerous path, and I hope that the correct disciplinary action will be taken." She stood up at this and marched around Fudge's desk.

"My dear Bellatrix, I am of course concerned for my goddaughter too...but… You say Lucius definitely has the item... You have seen it with your own eyes have you?"

"Well, no..."

"Well you merely have theories, my girl, and it would do you good to stay out of other people's affairs." Fudge felt a slight chill coming over him. His worst fears had been realised, now action needed to be taken, starting with damage control. "It really is none of your concern."

Bellatrix could feel herself prickling with irritation. She despised Fudge and his muggle-loving bureaucracy. She could now add obtuse idiot to her list of names for him.

"And," continued Fudge, in an imperiously condescending tone, 'I would have thought better of you, Bellatrix, telling tales on respected members of the community. It's a shame, and not at all befitting of a Black."

Bellatrix stormed towards the door, before turning on her heels. "Well then, Fudgey, it's a bloody good job that I am not a Black anymore."

Fudge's mouth dropped open.

"I got married yesterday, Paris," she said, her reptilian smile lighting up her pale face, "So, now you will please address me as Mrs. Lestrange..."

"Rastaban?"

"Rodolphus, actually... younger men are easier to break in if you know what I mean."

Fudge looked stunned.

"Younger men have the vigour, the drive, to... control, lead... take over when necessary." Her tone was slick, "I shouldn't think you'll last long here, Fudgey... and you're a fool if you think otherwise."

With that she was gone.


	12. Chapter 12: No Going Back

No going back

Cornelius Fudge sat in his office, clicking his fingers so that a few seconds later a house elf appeared. 'I need some cupcakes... blue ones, I think blue ones today' he said putting his hands to his brow. As the house elf disappeared, he tentatively opened the secret compartment in his desk. As he had expected it was empty. He knew what had to be done... he had been putting it off for a while, but now, things had been set in motion and even he could not stop what was destined to come to pass.

Back at the Manor Narcissa was feeling rather ill. She lay sprawled in the large chair by the hearth, talking to her mother, who had, seconds later apparated into the hallway, demanding to see her daughter. Malfoy had not yet returned from work and it was getting late.

'But darling she must have told you something... I mean, well... its a good match, he is from a good family,' by 'good', of course she meant pure-blood. 'But its the implications...' she hesitated slightly, before sitting down on a maroon chaise longue which stood elegantly in the corner. Narcissa looked very much like her mother, the dark hair of her sister had come from

her father's side, the 'Black' side. 'Now...child, you know that I strongly support those who aim for a more... streamlined wizard community... but the Lestranges are... well, they're Death Eaters... and now Bella too.'

'I thought you supported Voldemort?'

'I would not support anyone who would jeopardise the lives of my children, no matter how worthy the cause.'

Narcissa rolled her eyes, she did not want to discuss Death Eaters... knowing all to well that her husband was also one of their number.

'What is the matter with you, child?' said her mother irritably.

'Oh... some drink that B... that I drank this afternoon, its just a headache though...' she said closing her eyes.

Her mother stood up abruptly, 'Well, I'm glad to see you're taking your family responsibilities seriously...'

'Mother... I am, but.. its Bella's choice... at least she didn't do an Andromeda and...'

'Don't even say it!' shouted her mother.

'Besides,' continued Narcissa, 'I am a Malfoy now... _your_ decision in case you forgot, and so I have new responsibilities,' she knew she was on dangerous ground, 'new priorities.' She stood up and began pacing, _where is he...?_

Her mother was humbled, perhaps it was the thought that she had essentially forced her daughter to leave the family, or perhaps it was the notion that she now considered to be the only loyal daughter she had left. She walked over to Narcissa and kissed her. 'Of course, my darling girl... I shall return to your father, your aunt is unwell, he intends to go to Grimmauld Place tonight and I dare say he will miss me if I do not say goodbye.' With a weak smile she apparated out of the room.

Narcissa fell asleep that night, curled up by the fire. She awoke several hours later feeling strong arms around her. Opening her eyes in the gloom she saw that she was being carried into her bedroom. Lucius layed her gently on the bed, then went to leave. Narcissa rubbed her eyes and called to him, 'Where have you been?' When she had been planning on saying this, she had intended her voice to sound strong and indignant for making her worry. Her voice had come out a good deal quieter than she had anticipated.

Malfoy turned and looked back at her. She could not see his expression, standing in the shadows until he walked back towards the bed and sat down. He looked grave.

'What is it, my love...?' she stroked back a wisp of hair from his cheek and kissed him gently, tell me?'

He turned to look at her, and, for a moment looked as if her was about to speak. He kissed her, very softly, pushing her back down into the warm downy pillow. Then almost as smoothly as he had begun he turned away. Narcissa watched him steadily. Sleep still lingered about her, and somehow seemed to give her power. She trailed her fingers up his neck and through his hair. In a swift motion, as though moving through a watery dream, she swept her legs around him, sitting atop his lap, her sleepy warmth covering him. Narcissa began to undress her husband, feeling at each stage the need to have him, to have his bulk around her, on top of her and inside her. She felt him stiffen beneath her though still her remained still. Lifting her night gown around her hips she lowered herself on to him, exhaling raggedly as she did. Her breath caught in her throat and even as her resolve seemed to fail, she felt his hands move to her back and slide down. He pulled her closer into him, again eliciting a sharp breath from his wife, and the, with characteristic flourish, he rolled her over, their bodies still connected, and softly pushed into her.

Narcissa opened her eyes after a few minutes of dosing to see a chink of light entering through the window. It took her a while to realise it was the moon. Malfoy was standing by the window. Sensing her coming to, he turned and squared his shoulders.

'Narcissa, things are going to be different from now... there is no going back.'

Narcissa did not have clue what he was talking about, instead she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

'Your cousin...'

Narcissa frowned, 'Sirius?' she said questioningly.

'No.' said Lucius plainly. He paused and for a few moments said nothing. 'Regulus is dead.'

Narcissa's eyes widened and her mouth fell open, yet she too remained mute.

'He tried to back out... Voldemort does not suffer turn-coats, or cowards...' he said quietly, as if trying to lessen the blow.

Narcissa was silent. Though she had never got on amazingly with Regulus, she couldn't quite believe he was dead. She suddenly felt a cold wave of nausea hit her, as she realised the implications, _he tried to back out. _

'You know what this means, Narcissa?' said Malfoy approaching the bed.

Narcissa nodded dumbly. Her husband, and her sister were part of this increasingly more dangerous group, and now, tonight, their leader had made it perfectly clear, that they were in it for good. 'So be it...' she said raising her chin, to meet the eyes of her husband.

Malfoy looked back at his wife and could see her eyes, twinkling with tears in the moonlight. He climbed into bed beside her, and wrapped her tightly in his arms.


	13. Chapter 13: Back to School

Back to School

The next day Narcissa Malfoy put on her most respectable robes. They were royal blue velvet, and though they looked as heavy as chain-mail, they were as light as feathers. She swept downstairs to see Lucius, waiting for her in the hall way.

'There...' said Narcissa, 'I believe I look like the perfect prospective parent!' she said spinning around.

Malfoy allowed one side of his mouth to creep into a smile, before pulling her towards him and leading her out the door. They were to take a Portkey to Hogwarts.

As Narcissa approached the imposing building of Hogwarts she was hit instantly by a comforting wave of nostalgia. She smiled into the sunshine which was now just cresting the north tower. Walking up through the courtyard, they met their guide.

'Lucius... good to see you.'

Malfoy clasped the man's hand in a firm shake, 'Severus, hows tricks?.. may I introduce, my wife.. I think you remember Narcissa Black?'

Severus Snape nodded slowly to Narcissa and smiled, 'I do indeed, a fellow Slytherin, if I'm not mistaken?'

Narcissa, feeling slightly uncomfortable under Snape's gaze said, 'So you two have kept in contact, all these years? Is it a long time since you have seen each other?'

Snape looked sharply at Malfoy, 'Not so long as you might imagine.'

As they were taken into the school a flurry of Owls flew above their heads and Narcissa smiled, remembering the excitement of mail time at breakfast.

After an hour or so, the Malfoys reached the library. As they approached a slim, spindley woman approached;

'Irma Pince, welcome to the library.' she said extending a hand.

The couple shook her hand, and began to wander around the library. Lucius could see that Snape was not intending on leaving them at any point. Though he and Snape were of the same faction, he was not sure he wanted this information, whatever it might be, to be overlooked by any outside his immediate family. He eyed Narcissa, who, awaiting his signal, walked langorously over to Snape.

'Severus, will you now take us outside, I long to walk on the grounds again...'

Snape smiled compliantly and motioned for the two to leave the library.

Lucius remained, 'I am going to stay here for a while... check out the literary facilities...take my wife though, I sha'n't miss her'

Severus stopped in his tracks, 'we will wait for you then, I am your guide and it would be rude to abandon you.'

Narcissa stepped close to Snape, 'We can leave him, he bores me,' she sounded so imperious that even she was surprised, 'I want you to take me for a walk outside, I think I need the air...I'm really hot...' and she locked her eyes with his so that apparently he could not refuse.

Once alone, Malfoy began walking swiftly towards a shelf, he had already scanned the numbers when they had first been shown around and knew exactly where he had to go. The school was devoid of most students as it was the holidays, even so, Malfoy glanced furtively round him as he plucked the book from the shelf. He balked at the title or the book,_ A history of Muggle Rome._ He could not even understand why such a book was in existence. _Well, it is certainly the last place anybody would think to look_. Flicking through the dusty pages he arrived at his destination. It was a long list of names. Malfoy looked at the top of the Page - _Catalogue of Popes cont..._

He stared at the page, thinking that they must have made a mistake in deciphering the cane. Then he saw something that made the hairs on the back of his next stand up. It was his name. Pope Lucius. This would not have been so shocking, had the name directly before him been 'Cornelius'. Suddenly the book flew from his hand, across the room and into the hands of none other than Fudge himself.


	14. Chapter 14: Hinkypunks

Hinkypunks

Fudge stood, holding the book, his wand aimed at Malfoy.

'I knew you'd come here eventually, I suppose I was a fool to think I could keep it from you.'

Malfoy was still rather unclear, though he had no intention of revealing this to Fudge. He stood absolutely still contemplating the possible outcome of a duel between the two. With the odds stacked highly in his favour, he did not feel worried. 'How did you know about my father's cane?' he asked.

'It was my aunt,' said Fudge calmly, 'she knew your father well, and he told her of a prophesy he had heard, citing this list of Muggle religious leaders as, as a kind of map, for the political workings of our own minsitry...a prophesy' he paused, his face heavy and tired, 'your father, of course, could not have this news reaching the wider world as, particularly when you were at a young age, it would have made you an easy target for certain political factions...'

Malfoy was beginning to understand his father's meaning, _the cane is the key _and looked at Fudge, raising one eyebrow, 'That doesn't explain why you took the cane from me?'

'You have to understand that prophecies have been made, many, which point to muggle artefacts for elucidation... most have turned out to be quite inaccurate... even so, I could not take the risk of you... getting ideas... even if it was not an accurate prophesy, it could prove... self fulfilling.' Fudge lowered his wand slightly, 'My aunt and I... we were close, she told me of the cane, and how your father had preserved the message of the prophesy within it... she told me it would be dangerous for you to discover, your apparent... destiny... before it had come to pass... it was her supposition that perhaps you would, jump the gun - so to speak, and that my reign as minister may be cut short... prematurely.' He continued, 'However, I did not think you would open the cane - as you didn't know there was something to be hidden... until, that is, you sent it to be valued... with our mutual acquaintance...'

Malfoy growled under his breath, 'Julius'.

The two stood oposite each other for a few moments longer, neither venturing to speak nor move. Eventually Fudge spoke. 'It appears we have a conundrum, Lucius... I cannot let you leave and spread this information... especially in these dark times... it would not be prudent.' And he raised his wand again.

Malfoy spoke now, 'Fudge, I have absolutely no intention of trying to over-throw you... I can't even begin to think how I would go about such a thing...' his voice was liquid smooth, 'I propose that we both keep this knowledge to ourselves... form a little, coalition of our own... you keep me abreast of what's going on... and I mean what's _really_ going on... and I will do my best to make your reign at the ministry... fruitful.'

Fudge shuffled on his feet... 'Alright... so we have an understanding, Lucius...' and he walked up to shake his new ally's hand. 'Besides,' he continued, regaining a little of his smugness, 'you'd have a job wresting it from that whippersnapper Scrimegeour… young now, but mark my words he's a canny one.'

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, but never removing his gaze from the older man's, 'I'll watch out.' He said, a slightly sardonic edge slipping into his voice.

'Cornelius!' came a familiar ringing trill from the corner.

The two men turned to see Narcissa standing, Snape behind her, at the doorway of the library, Madam Pince had arrived from some shady corner too. The thin woman let out a little cry, 'Oh, minister, I did not know you had come today, forgive me, for not giving you a proper reception!'

Snape walked forward at this point too, 'Yes, Minister, I was not aware of your visiting the school today,' His usual scowl had subtlely transformed into one of sycophancy, but it was a scowl nonetheless.

'Yes, well,' said Fudge in a peremptory fashion, 'I had to see Dumbledore about something... and I just thought I would call in at the library, been meaning to a have a look at a book on Hinkypunks... damn things are everywhere at the moment... I thought your Madam Pince would be more than capable of helping me.. so much more... knowledgable... than those at the National Library...' he added with a wink to Pince, who, in return, flushed fuschia, giving a schoolgirlish giggle and looking at the floor.

Snape's lip curled upwards. He did not believe it for a moment, though for the life of him could not think why Malfoy and Fudge, who presumably see each other everyday, would chose to have secret meeting in Hogwarts library of all places.

Narcissa walked over to her husband, a little shocked at seeing the man she had betrayed, in order that Lucius might come here. She linked her arms into his, 'is everything ok?' she asked lightly, smiling at Cornelius.

Fudge half smiled back, 'yes, everything is as it should be... though I must say Narcissa, I do believe that marriage has brought out some of your sister's more charming qualities in you' he gave an empty laugh, but then put his hand on her shoulder... 'its all as it should be, my dear.' and he began walking towards the door.

Lucius Malfoy called after him, 'Fudge, aren't you forgetting the hinkypunks?' and he gave a broad smile.

'The what!' snapped Fudge, clearly flustered.

'Oh yes minister... here... I have an extensive collection of books that will be of assitance...' said Pince, motioning for him to follow her.

Fudge looked wearily at Malfoy, then at Snape, 'Ah, alas, I really must see Dumbledore...'

Pince looked crest-fallen.

Snape stepped forward now. Though he did not trust Lucius Malfoy, he thought Fudge was a bufoon of the highest order. 'I'm sorry minister, but Dumbledore is not here at present, he won't be free until at least an hour.'

Pince sprung into action, 'perfect... that will be just enough time to show you these books'

Seeing he was defeated, Fudge smiled weakly, 'Lead the way Irma.'

Leaving Hogwarts Narcissa felt a strange sense of homesickness, and she looked back at the imposing doors. As they arrived home, however, the smell of roast chicken drifted out from the kitchens and Narcissa felt glad to be back. 'So do you think we made an impression, with the teachers... do you think I came across as a capable mother-to-be?'

Lucius, peeled off his cloak and sat in the hearth chair looking at Narcissa. 'I believe they cannot wait for us to endow the school with Malfoy progeny... and Malfoy money.' he said with a sly smile, as Narcissa sat on his knee. 'I think it would be.. cruel to make them wait too long...' his smile grew, 'Lunch won't be ready for at least half an hour...'

In the next moment all that could bee seen was a flurry of robes and blonde hair, as Lucius Malfoy chased his wife up the stairs.


	15. Chapter 15: Epilogue

Dragons

Narcissa lay on her bed, her eyes adjusting to the light. She had been dreaming of dragons. As her vision became clearer she made out her husband, standing, sillhouetted against the early morning light. In his arms, just a few hours old, was a baby. She watched Lucius as he gently rocked the creature from side to side.

Narcissa sat up, 'Morning daddy' she said to him in a voice just above a whisper. He turned to face her but did not make a sound, instead walked over to the bed and placed the now sleeping baby in a silvery oak crib which lay beside Narcissa. After doing so, Lucius Malfoy sat on the edge of the bed and looked at his wife.

'I know what we must call the baby' Narcissa said, 'its the phrophesy, I've been dreaming about it these past few days... its us you see!'

Lucius raised his hand to her face and stroked the side of her cheek, 'My darling what are you talking about?'

'Its us! "From sleeping light... remember!' her voice was charged with energy, though still no louder than a murmur. '_Sleep_ - the ancient Greek word for sleep is Narce, Narcissa, and _Light_... well that's you, Lucius means light in Latin - both the classics combined... from sleeping light it said! It was meant to be... us...'

Lucius Malfoy took the hand of his wife, comprehension dawning on him like a warm mist, 'From sleeping light comes... the dragon...'

The two Malfoys looked into each others eyes and began to smile. And together, only one more word was spoken that night, "Draco."


End file.
